"Quigley's Magic Show" at Buonaccorsi + Agniel (1 Sims Ave, unit 102, Providence, through June 9) is a psychedelic creature double feature by Providence wife and husband team Kyla and James (Gunsho) Quigley.
EYE-POPPING James Quigley’s Altered States.
Kyla Quigley's soft, patchwork fabric sculptures depict antlered horses mounted on the walls like trophies. Her glazed terracotta masks represent jesters, seers, demons, and a wolf with a mystical third eye in its forehead. In her paintings, everything radiates halos of glowing rainbow beams. It's all folksy and a bit uncanny. Its charm might be an invitation into a world of rainbow magic or may be camouflaging something a bit sinister.
Two works suggest where she might go next. One is a little altar featuring a candle plus painted clay sculptures of an elfy lady emerging from a stream and a wizard facing off with a dragon. The other is a photo of a sculpture of a grinning coyote, its face painted with a mask of bright reds, turquoises, and greens, loitering amidst real beer cans and a few skulls on the bank of a river. Ms. Quigley presently favors singular pieces, generally animal icons, totems, and spirit masks. There's power in them one by one, but they become more electric and ecstatic as she amasses them in tableaus or shrines.
James Quigley's drawings and screenprints depict psychedelic melting faces, spectral ladies, stoned goons, and sordid demons with heavy metal top hats and long hair drinking, pissing, smoking, flipping the middle finger, and puking flaming eyeballs. One screenprint features a zombie Rambo with a bloody head spiked on the bayonet of his rifle as the American flag waves behind. Below a slogan reads: "Show me your war face."
FANCIFUL BEASTS Kyla Quigley’s Horse Heads.
Quigley fills a wall with dozens of little ink drawings on cardboard of old, naked, fat, wrinkly, pimply louts with large nipples and tiny penises. Some are mutant or mutilated like a bearded guy with one leg, no body, no arms, and a knife stuck in his head. For added flavor, Quigley sometimes adds slogans in crazy hand-drawn lava/vomit fonts.
All of this is in the proud tradition of "Big Daddy" Ed Roth hot rod graphics, badass skateboarding, Garbage Pail Kids, John Kricfalusi's Ren & Stimpy, and posters for various monsters of rock. It's not profound, but his awesome draftsmanship and eye-popping colors are devoted to the simple pleasures of reveling in bad habits, gross bodily fluids, and the deadly sins.
In contrast, Providence artist Marguerite Keyes's exhibit "Shark Gone, Glitter Shine" at the Storefront (186 Carpenter St, Providence, through May 26) is all thoughtful sweetness inspired by adventures with her three-year-old daughter and echoes of her own childhood: "My daughter adores all things pink and glittery. When I was young, I despised pink and ran from glitter. I loved all things green and alive."
Her tiny, delicate sculptures capture moments when natural wonders can feel like magic. She hinges a rock atop a pedestal so you can lift it up to reveal a cavity of earth below and a glistening salamander. Cedar "rocks" hinge open like lockets holding little dioramas with poetic signs. Inside one, a tiny white box with a (model) moth inside is paired with a little sign reading: "My mother tells me that when I was three she found me behind the couch saying a prayer for a dead moth."