Next door to the Pit in Glendale is the Pit II, a pocket-sized gallery into which Erik Frydenborg has packed four sculptural reliefs. One hangs on each of three walls, and one stands on the floor, blocking your entrance. The setup, titled "An Erik Frydenborg Omnibus," would be aggressive if its works weren't so goofy.
Imagine what might happen if a local exterminator, whose favorite movie is "Minions," were commissioned to build a set of polychrome urethane gravestones for aliens whose love of sci-fi paperbacks from the 1950s was matched by their obsession with Cold War spy stories from the '60s.
Such far-flung associations race to mind in the presence of Frydenborg's nutty sculptures, which are so beautifully crafted that you can't help but like them. Mixing metaphors like nobody's business, Frydenborg specializes in non sequiturs.
In an age of instant takeaways and cut-to-the-chase summations, his obdurate works make a virtue of incomprehension. By keeping meaning at bay — and visitors on our toes — "An Erik Frydenborg Omnibus" wreaks havoc with logic so that the imagination might spring into action, strut its stuff and leave us with the knowledge that there's more to art — and life — than meets the eye.