By Daniel A. Kusner Life+Style Editor

Queer artist Carl L. Andrews shoe-slaps Dubya for being a war-hungry, soulless, oil henchman

CARL’S CANVAS: Andrews with his entry, "Soulless: Blood-Oil Diamonds on the Soles of His Shoes."

While the Obama Age is in its infancy, many of us are still chewing on Bush 43’s legacy.

Carl L. Andrews met Dubya once.

"When I lived in Highland Park. It was at a fundraiser when Bush was running for governor," Andrews remembers. "He seemed like a good ol’ boy — the Highland Park-type who grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth, went to the right colleges… . "

Andrews himself grew up in Archer County, a major producer of Texas’ black tea. And his parents were "rabid Republicans," he says.

For a while, he and Dubya had a lot in common. In fact, Andrews says he’s personally met every GOP president since Nixon.

Andrews’ rebel streak emerged later in life. After he graduated from the Protestant fundamentalist Bob Jones University, Andrews married a woman, worked for IBM and moved to Highland Park. But he eventually divorced, came out and was ex-communicated from Bob Jones U. (for writing a letter to the Village Voice — a rebuttal to his alma mater’s president, who said HIV was God’s curse to gays.)

At Bob Jones U., Andrews picked up three degrees: history, communications and art. This week, he flexes his creative vision with an entry at the Decorazon Gallery’s new juried show: "Farewell Shoes for Mr. Bush," obviously inspired by Muntadhir al-Zaidi, the Iraqi shoe-thrower, who tossed his size 10s at Bush during a Dec. 14 press conference.

Andrews submitted a canvas mixed-media work titled, "Soulless: Blood-Oil Diamonds on the Soles of His Shoes," which has the ring Paul Simon’s peppy 1986 hit plus the carnage of a suicidal bomber. Included in the work are images an Iraqi mother holding the bloody shoes of her sons, an IV bag filled with petroleum and a photo of Dubya with a foot superimposed over his heart.

"In many cultures the sole of the foot is considered the lowest part of the body: the filthiest part of the body," Andrews explains. "Putting a sole over someone’s heart is like saying, ‘Fuck you.’"

"Farewell Shoes for Mr. Bush"
on view through Feb. 16 (President’s Day),
at the Decorazon Gallery in the Bishop Arts District,
417 N. Bishop Ave

WICKED SCAR: Huber and a classical stud with a deltoid wound. DANIEL A. KUSNER/Dallas Voice

At first glance, Gerard Huber’s works look like the epitome of physical perfection — mouthwatering muscle-studs posed in neoclassical tableaux. But upon closer inspection, the Dallas realist master also captures microscopic details: wrinkles, scars, veins and hints of subcutaneous fat.

Huber strikes an even balance between erotica and the ancient definition of "classical" art. Six of Huber’s Classical Figures series are featured in the spring 2009 edition of "Oranges and Sardines," ($25) a quarterly art journal that’s available through

Huber also balances the modern and old-skool. He almost proudly announces that he doesn’t own a cell phone, and his paintings look like sculptures excavated from the Acropolis. But much of Huber’s impeccable technique is achieved by working the compression on an airbrush.

Raised in Waterloo, Iowa, Huber works in a studio near Robert E. Lee Park in a space he shares with his partner. He’s also on faculty at Texas A&M University-Commerce.

Throughout his work, you might recognize some local meat. In one work from his Classical Figures series, Huber points out a Dallas muscleman, who has an incredibly sexy scar from overworking his deltoids.

— Daniel A. Kusner

This article appeared in the Dallas Voice print edition February 6, 2009vkbot.orgразработка сайта интернет магазина