The Morning Call
About Guido Gelcich
Geoff Gehman, June 27, 2002
Guido Gelcich makes small drawings with big vibrations. His charcoal figures, congregated in the Gallery at St. John’s, are sketchy yet toothy, anonymous yet familiar, restful yet restless.
Gelcich is a resident of Genoa, Italy, befriended by Karl Stirner, the Easton sculptor and cultural den father. He likes his bodies naked, massive and meaty. Calves are as thick as tree trunks, rear ends the size of peaches. Gestures are natural, dynamic, mythic. Lovers wrestle with the plump drama of nymphs and satyrs; mothers coddle children with the refined mystery of madonnas. Gelcich heightens his lithe, looping line with chunky blocking, sculptural shading and stormy skin. These people are not only fleshy, they seem carved from granite or wood.
Even the fairly featureless, bowling-ball heads are personable. Some are covered by the sort of exaggerated masks worn by commedia dell’arte actors. They add a sense of grotesque humor, a touch of disarming charm.