Valery Milovic plays with broken toys
Flowers, feathers and hearts are repeated in her work like children’s doodles—but here they are juxtaposed with cigarettes, alcohol, razor-sharp fangs and blood.
Getting closer, the pieces revealed themselves as more ominous. All of the subjects in Listen to What I’m Not Saying (over and over), the new solo show by visual artist Valery Milovic, have vacant spheres instead of eyeballs. Some have sliver slits lined with needle teeth or “x”s slashing the front of their faces where mouths should be. Children, bunnies and angel-like beings proffer bright-red hearts that are partially anatomically correct and dripping blood. The pieces are primarily acrylic on wood, often cut along the outline of the characters, making them more like toys. Over the paint, Milovic uses decoupage clipped into specific shapes: Eyes, clothing and sometimes whole bodies are collages of text, maps or equations.
Creepy-cute is big right now. In fact, it’s been de rigueur for awhile, and it’s getting a bit tiresome. Milovic’s work fits the trend of storybook imagery mixed with things gothic and gross, but she’s not using this style just because it’s the hip thing to do. A California native, Milovic lives in New Mexico and has always loved vintage toys and cartoons. Inspired by the children’s book “The Velveteen Rabbit,” she created a series called Broken Toys, which gave rise to Broken Toyland: the world in which all her recurring characters live. She paints the same creatures repeatedly because she’s empathetic to them and their problems. Flowers, feathers and hearts are repeated in her work like children’s doodles—but here they are juxtaposed with cigarettes, alcohol, razor-sharp fangs and blood.
Elizabeth McGrath, but probably not so much to people who like Norman Rockwell.
“Fox Ate the Little Prince (because he lied)” is an orange-and-black biped fox holding a crown. Micro text on his shoulder warns the viewer, “You become responsible, forever, for what you have tamed.” “Nunny #01” is exactly what it sounds like—a bunny in a nun habit. Indicating a dilemma of faith, she holds an alcohol bottle labeled “Outer Darkness Brand.” “The Little Star” pieces continue mixing symbols of purity and tarnish. Some of the pudgy, five-pointed twinklers have delicate wings, but more have cigarettes and grimaces. The most overt glimpse of Milovic’s personal demons is in “Maternally Speaking.” An evil gingerbread cookie-shaped woman has one hand on a hip, the other raised. “What’s wrong with you?” is scrawled in her gaping maw. Lacquered to her dress is a charred photo of a little girl, her head buried in her arms.
Overall, the show is grim yet playful. I started relating to Milovic’s characters, too. I don’t have a pet, and I wouldn’t mind taking home one of her flawed, lovable creatures. We could have a burbon and a smoke together.
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