Correction: On January 15, The Temporary Space debuted exhibits by three artists, Francis Giampietro, Michael Dee and Domokos Benczedi. The curatorial team, Persuasion (Tex Kerschen and Erika Thrasher) curated the Michael Dee and Domokos Benczedi shows, but not the Francis Giampietro show, as I mistakenly wrote in my review. I apologize for the error.

It’s a Friday night and I am driving on Nance Street among the artists’ lofts, looking for parking. My destination is The Temporary Space, which is having an opening. It’s proving hard to find, and it’s also hard to get a real grasp of what The Temporary Space is. Their website says the following: “the temporary space is a project space shared by self-motivated, critical and engaging individuals through research and experiments for emergence of alternative and autonomous society. the temporary space seeks engaging, responsible and creative individuals as a collaborative and autonomous participant. The current temporary space locates in Downtown, Houston, Texas.”

Francis Giampietro at the Temporary Space: Prometheus, Elijah and the pursuit of perfection, 2009

The very name suggests a provisional quality. And walking into the crowded gallery, the vibe was “We’re here today, we may not be here (or anywhere) tomorrow, so have a beer.” It’s a pretty agreeable way to see some art.

The exhibit was really three exhibits: assemblages by Francis Giampietro, posters by Domokos Benczedi, and video by Michael Dee. The show is part of an “independent exhibition series” (independent of what?) called Persuasion. The curators are Tex Kerschen and Erika Thrasher of the band Indian Jewelry. They lay out their “self-applied rules” and limitations in a crudely Xeroxed booklet given out at the show: “First of all, no begging from corporations, individuals, or institutions. Waiting for handouts has put art in a sorry place.” That’s sticking it to the man! But wait, there’s more: “We’re not above taking money, but we’re not about to beg for it.” Talk about your mixed messages.

Francis Giampietro at the Temporary Space: Contrapposto, 2009

Artists, curators and impresarios have tried for decades to find a way to work outside the art world, the “museum-gallery complex” (a pompous phrase that originated in the '60s). As fruitless as these efforts ultimately are, they sometimes midwife the creation of some pretty damn good art, the kind you are unlikely to see in most commercial galleries.

The work of Francis Giampietro hit me with a power that describing the pieces can’t express. I mean, let’s say you stack two metal sleds (the bases for blocking sleds, just like the kind I used when I played football) on a lump of thick, semi-wet clay. It sounds like nothing, like detritus forgotten in the back of the field house over at the high school. But this is a description of “Prometheus, Elijah and the pursuit of perfection.” And this floor-hugging pile of metal and clay had a strong, masculine presence. I couldn’t help thinking of sweat and mud and the smell of cut grass -- in short, football practice.

It’s the pursuit of physical perfection (and the vanity and fragility that accompany it) that fascinates Giampietro. “Contrapposto” assembles materials known for strength (concrete, steel, and wood) with a substance used weight-lifters and body-builders (protein powder). The end result isn’t a portrait of strength, but a precarious structure. The powder could blow away and the concrete tumble down at any moment.

Francis Giampietro at the Temporary Space: Untitled, 2009

Giampietro’s final untitled piece continues the theme of male vanity. A wood structure, three months worth of workout nutritional supplements, a “school spirit workout towel”, and a big mirror reflect the viewer (none of whom looked much like body builders that night). All that’s missing is a container of steroids.

On Giampietro’s website, there are photos from a performance he did which involved manhandling a 500-pound truck tire to make marks on the floor. Looking at these photos, you get the notion that fitness and body-building are not of mere academic interest to Giampietro. His art is ultimately autobiographical.

This show will be up through February 7 and available for viewing by appointment, which can be made by emailing manager@thetemporaryspace.com.