"Round 23" For the latest round of installations at Project Row Houses, Michael Golden has hung hundreds (maybe thousands) of keys inside one row house, covering an entire wall with these multicolored bits of metal. More keys dangle from other walls, placed there by visitors who have written their hopes and secrets on tags attached to them. The visual effect is appealing enough, but the accompanying literature drips more cheese than a plate of soggy nachos. "This installation explores the key as a metaphor to unlocking dreams and locking up secrets," it reads. If this project were in a museum, it probably would upset the stomachs of even the most lactose-tolerant, but at PRH it somehow works, especially when you see how many people have participated. In his space, artist Jimmy Kuehnle has set up 30 televisions, all stacked up and strewn about at odd angles. Tiny cameras are placed around the house, filming visitors and feeding the TVs. The trick is that the televisions are set up so you can never see yourself; every time you get within view of a monitor, you've just walked out of range of its corresponding camera. The installation is clever and does make a statement about how we're monitored all the time without knowing it, but it's pretty straightforward; there's little room for nuance in the confines of this house. Then again, it's easy to imagine how much fun could be had in there by the kids of the single mothers staying in the row houses across the courtyard. Then there's Kaneem Smith's installation, which deals with the unknown in a palpable way. She has covered the floor of her house in dirt and gravel, and from the ceiling hangs what looks like a large curtain of burlap. But as you walk around the curtain, trying to see what's on the other side, you end up right back where you started; it's a closed loop, a clever trick. And it's easily the most interesting installation in this round. Through February 28. 2500 Holman, 713-526-7662.
"Uta Kögelsberger: dark light" Uta Kögelsberger photographs old WWII bunkers on the beaches of Normandy and England. She shoots them at night, lighting them dramatically. The blocky concrete structures look like prehistoric sites or relics from some grim ancient society with a brutally modernist aesthetic. Only sixtysomething years old, these places of waiting and watching of death and drama have been upended by nature. They are tilted at odd angles, eroded and slowly sinking into the sea; they seem futile and pathetic now. But once they were the focus of so much defensive might, and in the case of Normandy, the site of so much bloodshed. Kögelsberger creates starkly haunting images of these haunted sites. Though January 17 at the Glassell Upstairs Project Space, 5100 Montrose, 713-639-7700.
"Whatever you thought, think again: Feed Your Head with Cerealart & Installation by J. Hill" Mackey Gallery's current show is geared toward holiday shopping. A lot of other galleries have a similar strategy as they present a grab bag of artists from their stable for seasonal consumerism. But Mackey's show is a witty, hip and frank approach to Christmas/Hanukkah/ Kwanza commerce. The art goods are from Cerealart, a company that manufactures decorative and household objects designed by some big-ticket artists. Everything is presented in an installation by J. Hill, who painted the gallery a butterscotch color with a forest of slender silver tree trunks. He included big Styrofoam chunks of "ice" and piles of silica "snow" for maximum winter wonderland-ness. The show's objets include a green resin dog and a purple resin cat by '80s graffiti artist Kenny Scharf. Japanese pop master Yoshitomo Nara contributes an ashtray with a big-eyed little girl puffing a cigarette and the words "Too young to die." His equally pop countrywoman Momoyo Torimitsu takes the giant inflatable rabbits from her installations and transforms them into cookie jars in lime, tangerine and pale blue. Marcel Dzama has his own ceramic canisters, little weird melting snowmen that disappear into the floor. The gallery is also selling a gallery, a one-sixth-scale replica of the world's smallest gallery, The Wrong Gallery, in New York. The original was essentially a glass door with about a foot of space behind it. The replica includes the glass door, a brick facade and a light to illuminate your curatorial choices. It's a fun show with some nice artist-designed objects in an appropriately arty environment. Through January 28. 5111 Center, 713-850-8527.