Pieces of his mind: Roark Gourley’s abstract work on display at Caesars

Thursday, July 20, 2000 | 9:17 a.m.

Roark Gourley is frequently asked about the inspiration for his oddball artwork.

He succinctly replies "Duh?" and eagerly expands the thought.

"I just stand there and say, 'Are you kidding? Look around.' "

And when Gourley looks around he sees things that maybe you don't. He sees visitors to art museums staring vacantly at paintings with the symbolism literally soaring over their heads. He sees parents gazing at a piece while their young son fidgets on a bench, working his body into its own type of art piece (a pretzel) just to keep himself entertained.

"I actually saw both those pieces in art galleries. I had noticed that the kid was just bored out of his mind on a bench, and had his finger up his nose," Gourley said. "So I called it, 'Pick-aso.' "

Several scenes from everyday life have made their way into Gourley's fascinating collection, much of which is on display (and for sale, have you a couple grand to spare) through Labor Day at the Galleria di Sorrento at the Forum Shops at Caesars.

(The gallery is open from 9:30 a.m.-11 p.m. Sunday through Thursday and 9:30 a.m.-midnight Friday and Saturday.)

The deceptively large gallery typically favors more traditional pieces (especially bronze works), but unleashes its imagination during its annual summer show. For the second consecutive year Gallery Director Jeffrey Kamka solicited the work of Gourley, who first submitted his dazzling portfolio for the display in 1999. The collection was filled with unique pieces, which have been displayed in some of the country's most highly regarded galleries and museums.

Working on pieces he describes as "2.5-dimensional," Gourley crafts his distinctive artwork by using all sorts of materials, but mostly utilizes polyurethane (a material used in the construction of surfboards), wood coated with protective resin, and bronze. Most of the pieces are brilliantly colored with overt and off-kilter images, light in weight and easily disassembled.

Oil paintings on canvas, they're not.

"The great thing about Roark's work is no one out there is doing what he does," said Kamka, who has been with the gallery since 1993. "Once the initial shock of the traditional clients wears off, they realize they can put it anywhere in their home."

Gourley's work has been purchased at auction by such pop-culture luminaries as Elton John and Norman Lear, and has also been displayed at the Smithsonian Institution in the form of a piece titled "Spaghetti Meets Tomato."

Fate linked Gourley to the Smithsonian seven years ago when a couple of institute representatives happened on a Gourley exhibit while walking through Georgetown and were struck by his distinctive style.

"Spaghetti Meets Tomato," is characteristic of Gourley's abstract thought process, which came into play when the Smithsonian commissioned the piece. His only directive was to create a work that would complement a larger display (drawing from works from several other artists) called "Seeds Of Change."

"They said, 'Yeah, we're having someone do something on disease, then something on slavery, and you'll follow those at the end with something on food,' " Gourley said. "They told me it had to be food, and it had to be something humorous that would cheer people up after the disease and slavery."

Gourley tinkered with several versions, often scrapping entire projects, before arriving at the "Spaghetti Meets Tomato" theme -- a depiction of the merging of the continents, with a tomato rising from the West and pasta ascending in the East, with the resulting convergence spilling into Italy.

"I had tried different things, none of which I liked," Gourley said. "I had a food fight between Columbus and a kid that didn't work out. I kept tinkering with it until the idea of spaghetti and tomato, which is so simple, hit me."

The finished piece looks to be constructed entirely of food, but is deceptively intricate in its design. The spaghetti noodles are made of a resin-glossed clothes line, the cheese of sliced-up rubberbands and rice made of real spaghetti noodles. South America is adorned with real, hand-painted coffee beans.

"It's like a lot of my pieces," Gourley said. "The more you look at, the more you see."

He's created a couple of Las Vegas-specific pieces, one a man and the other a woman, each bearing maniacal expressions and using four arms to play a multitude of card games and slot machines.

"I couldn't resist doing something for Las Vegas," Gourley said. "There's too much good material here."

Gourley has also produced a series of mounted hearts -- "to show what might be in a person's heart" -- and is also fond of chefs, dogs, and particularly, forks. He spells the word "foark," to play off his name and has constructed lightweight forks 10 feet tall that he plants at outdoor places such as public parks throughout the country.

Gourley calls them "forkings," and can hardly resist playing off the obvious pun the word "fork" provides.

"We were forking around in Providence not too long ago," Gourley said. "That was in October. It was really forking cold. I decided afterward I was only going to fork around in nice weather."

Las Vegas was not deemed a fork-friendly climate.

"Too many distractions," Gourley said. "You'd need 50-foot forks."

Gourley also speaks whimsically of "spoon oppression," and since the turn of the century has added an extra prong to his forks to indicate man's evolution.

"I decided to change the word from a four-letter word to a five-letter word, and add a fifth prong," Gourley said, laughing. "I coincided with the new millennium, and I wanted to combat spoon aggression."

(No doubt, if Gourley were named "Clive," his work would be strewn with funny knives.)

It's clear that humor plays a large role in Gourley's work. Although he's a classically trained artist, having attended Orange Coast College near his home in Laguna Beach, Calif., and the University of Colorado, he's always found satisfaction in the more offbeat, or even goofy, works of art.

"To me, the reason why we're here is because of humor and aesthetics," said Gourley, who, when asked his age, gave a lengthy and concerned pause before answering, "Fifty. I'm 50, just 50, and I hate when I can't remember."

Returning to the point, he adds, "Aesthetics, that moment of (inhales quickly) is really important. When you see something spectacular, or feel a baby in your hands for the first time, or even hear something in a song, it's that quick moment we live for."

Gourley realizes that humor in the often highbrow world of fine art is not always readily appreciated or respected.

"All artists have some humorous stuff they do on the side," Gourley said. "To me, my work is very animated, even cartoonish, and it's a very immediate type of work. I feel art is communication, but a lot of people do art for themselves and say things like, 'art for art's self.' Well, then just leave it in your own house if that's the case."

Gourley does erase his usually ever-present smirk to contend that, beyond all the oversized forks and wild "2.5-dimensional" pieces, a serious artist is at work.

"A lot of people ask me when I'm going to do serious art," Gourley said. "How about if I'm just serious about my art? ... One thing that humans do that animals don't is laugh, so let's take advantage of that.

"In your next lifetime you might be a dog, so laugh and enjoy what you have now."

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