An unopened box contains more than an opened one. It triggers our imagination of what could be—150 variations of which are on dazzling display at Gallery Route One until Sept. 18. Dedicated to one of the gallery’s founding members, Betty Woolfolk, who organized and mounted the show for 17 years, the altar erected by the gallery entrance celebrates Ms. Woolfolk’s life and canny inventiveness. It also informs visitors about what’s in store in the rooms beyond: the imaginative exaltation of the box.
The first impression the exhibit gives is one of inventive playfulness. The show is fun, intriguing and so startling one must make the rounds several times to even begin to take it in. These box shapers are committed, and their earnestness grounds their works so that there is gravitas underneath the whimsy.
Some of the boxes contain figures of the divine, others everyday objects and miniature rooms. Some are interactive. A hand crank on the “Yellow Submarine” makes tiny Beatles go up and down, and one can enter a booth to make a drawing. There are electrified boxes that glow or blink or use light seemingly to draw with. Other boxes have exploded their contents; there is a drawing made with the ink of its box’s burnt ash and resin. Some pieces reflect other artists, such as a tribute to Joseph Cornell and Edvard Munch. Two refer to the presidential race and another is a miniature reconstruction of the Green Bridge with cows, a sheriff, tourists and a jalopy arranged in a comical narrative.
All artists conformed to the show’s guidelines. Volunteer contributors must use the box the gallery gives them and the art piece can be no wider than 30 inches. There is no restriction on height, but animals, live plants and batteries are not permitted.
Gallery members, two artists from the gallery’s fellowship program and former box-makers are prioritized in the exhibit, and if one skips a year, that place is given by lottery and raffle to one of the 300 to 400 hopefuls on a waitlist. The annual show attracts thousands of visitors; there is no jury or judge, and at the show’s conclusion, the boxes are auctioned to the public. Visitors will leave the show thinking of box-filling possibilities. Here the philistine’s “I could do that” sneer turns into a musing sweetness. Yes, you could.
Julia Hawkins, who wrote for the Point Reyes Light as Julia Fries when she lived in Inverness in the 1970s, is a freelance theater critic and novelist. She lives in Cotati.