James Shefik's "I Am Not An Army"

It was about the time of the 2003 U.S. invasion of Iraq that James Shefik took his first drawing class.

Shefik, whose day job is painting scenes for film, television and commercials, was unimpressed and uninspired by the run-of-the-mill still life objects he was given to draw: urns, fruit, vases. 

One day, he brought a bust his mother had made to class. His teacher admired the piece, which Shefik then proceeded to wrap in a burlap sack. The resulting drawing he titled "Bagged Head #1."

Prescient of the outrages of Abu Ghraib and the "state secrets" of Guantanamo, the drawing is about what is and isn't shown, and about what individuals choose to see or not see.

Taken further, it is about political lies and evasions, personal deceptions and willful ignorances, and—in its deviation from the expected and its careful rendering of the folds and shadows of the cloth—it also becomes an investigation into art and the materials used to make art.

Soon Shefik was producing more objects to draw, such as "#1", a brown paper-wrapped 1910s bomb (the round type with the fuse snaking out of the top that you're now most likely to see in the paw of Wile E. Coyote).

After "#1," Shefik realized that the three-dimensional objects he was making were interesting on their own—perhaps even more so than the drawings for which they served as models.

Constructing these objects also allowed Shefik to utilize his day-job skills in creating intriguing shapes and in tricking the eye into taking one thing for another. "I like to pervert subjects and materials," says Shefik.

Etymologically, to pervert is to turn, and this is precisely what Shefik does. He takes an object or idea and turns it—both physically and metaphorically—just enough so that its more subtle meanings become visible. He tweaks subjects and materials in a way that reminds the viewer about the secret underneath, about the assumptions that hold things together, and the hidden truths that blow them apart.

In two other pieces, "Hate Responsibly" and "Worship," Shefik constructed grids of matches (some apparently burnt, others not), which shift in shading depending on the angle from which they are viewed. The effect alone is dizzying, but closer examination reveals that the "matches" are in fact the artist's constructions. Each one is carefully and painstakingly carved out of birch, shaped and painted to look like a match.

Even Shefik's materials seem to demand we rethink what we think we know.  A demand that, of course, requires that we think—an activity that seems increasingly diminished in a society that seems to love speed more than anything. "Another aspect of the laborious quality of each piece is a rebuttal to the digital instant gratification, short-attention-span landscape that pervades the early 21st century," says Shefik.

Autobody, where Shefik's work is on display through Oct. 3, is  in the heart of Alameda on Park Street. Challenging as he does many "hometown" assumptions,  Shefik's work is worth viewing, perhaps after a helping of Alameda's more traditional fare: pancakes at Ole's.

James Shefik's "I Am Not An Army" will be showing at Autobody Fine Arts at 1517 Park Street (510 865-2608) through Oct. 3.