“Steve Baibak Blows His Inheritance on Sculptures”

by Mary Catherine Cusack - Arts and entertainment writer and fine art photographer

With the eye of a photographer and the mind of a sculptor, Steve Baibak sees landscapes in raw materials and morphs them into forms that can be viewed almost simultaneously as both macrocosms and microcosms.

The deconstruction of foams, plastics and polyesters reflects two opposing themes: inheritance and apocalypse. Think opulence v. subsistence, permanence v. impermanence, structure v. anarchy, and abundance v. anemia.

Inheritance is the fascinating man-made process by which material goods get passed on from one generation to the next, often accompanied by emotional blackmail that requires us to keep things that have no personal value, but which carry with them the responsibility of guardianship. What could possibly alleviate that responsibility, break the cycle of relocating smelly old stuff from one basement to the next? Why, an apocalypse, of course.

When everything goes to hell, the random non-biodegradable household object takes on new meaning and new value. Carpet scraps are bedding, clothing, and armor. Frozen food wrappers and pillow stuffing becomes insulation. Plastic cups are still cups, essential for gathering water from any available source.

The works created from these things are frail behemoths. The seemingly substantial thick chunks of flesh are assembled and aligned to show off their organic, aesthetic lines in relation to the macrocosm of our world. They mimic some form of life that existed in our pre-apocalyptic world. We’re not too far from that time- maybe 2 years, maybe 5. We can tell because the colors still reflect something natural, something that was recently healthy and vivacious. They are not yet used up or atrophied, although the process is definitely underway.

Relationships are key to survival in this post-apocalyptic world. Take the symbiotic relationship forged by Adel Pug and Axshwing. The jovial, elephantine puppy-guardian happily follows his fragile robotic master through imaginary landscapes of rubble and chaos in search of a secure hideaway in which to seek temporary respite.

In this dystopia we try to live as normally as possible. At Woeloonness Kove they still serve up a nice slice of red velvet cake. The texture might be different than Grandma’s delicacy, but you get used to it. If you manage to find a radio in the rubble, the antennae strewn across the landscapes just might deliver your message. But take care…you don’t want to end up a trophy on some Reaver’s wall, like poor, poor Smidgareen.

Still, in every apocalyptic world there exists hope. There has to be a safe haven beyond Thunderdome. In Baibak’s cosmos, it doesn’t take a death-defying journey across dusty deserts to get there. The promised land is the microcosm that exists within each creation. Lean in, look closely. As the decay takes over, it exposes new caverns, chasms, vistas and views that offer hope that one may lead us all to the new Eden.