Though dandelions only sprout for a summer, Dan Webb has rendered them with bronze and redwood. And flies, with their even shorter life cycle, are carved from stone or etched in bright-colored plastic resin. The ephemeral is made permanent in the Cornish-trained Seattle artists Stones and Flowers. But then he does the opposite, too, with Skin, the tallest piece among a dozen-odd sculptures. Seeing a medieval suit of armor in a museum, one usually thinks, Damn, Prince Valiant was short. Our malnourished European forbears were considerably smaller than Webbs six-foot-high empty husk of armor. But while the proportions here are right for modern warriors, Skin is less intimidating than it first seems. Look more closely, and the whitish, leathery texture is revealed to be rawhidelike a chew toy for your dog. Forget about withstanding arrows, swords, or lances; you couldnt even wear Skin outside in the rain, where it would soften and wilt. Its the obverse of medieval armorsecurity made flimsy and insubstantial. Peer inside the visor, and the whole hollowed-out armature resembles the molted, discarded shell of a crab. The innards have slithered away some place, and all thats left is the defensive costume, the memory of a battle never fought. And, for obvious reasons, please tie your dog outside the gallery. (Artist talk: 12 p.m. Sat., Mar. 6.) BRIAN MILLER
Tuesdays-Saturdays, 10:30 a.m.-5:30 p.m. Starts: Feb. 18. Continues through March 27, 2010
