"Empires and Environments," one of three exhibitions currently at the Rose Art Museum, features pieces of art from new and emerging artists displayed alongside legendary pieces that normally live deep within the bowels of the famous vault. The exhibit, overseen by critic and curator Dominique Nahas and artist Margaret Evangeline, explores the normally concealed 6,000-plus pieces of the Rose collection in a completely new light and finally allows the public to see some of the University's artistic treasures. Among artists from the Rose's collection are old favorites like Andy Warhol, Bryan Hunt, Ross Bleckner, Eduoard Boubat and Jackson Pollack. Newer artists include John Powers, Kate Gilmore, Wayne Gonzales, Michael Combs and more. The Rose Web site offers an explanation of the meaning behind the title: "'Empires and Environments' proposes to address the interface of environments, (psychological, natural, and cultural) with drives that entail the structuring of 'empires' in symbolic, imaginary, and real terms." To be perfectly honest, this made very little sense to me. As an art major with an English minor, I felt obligated to understand such convoluted art language, but it soared over my head like seagulls on a beach. I would just have to see the exhibit for myself.

The large Lois Foster gallery looked enticing, complete with a giant, antlered animal hanging by a noose in a birdcage from the ceiling. Since the collection consisted of old and new works, my eyes were drawn to the dates of each piece before I actually saw the art itself. I attempted to draw comparisons between pieces from different periods that were placed in proximity to each other. A cluster of framed pictures hang in a diamond shape on the far left wall. The top and bottom ones are black-and-white photographs by Edward Boubat from 1955. They are flanked on both sides by watercolors by Marcel Dzama from 2003. All four images depict human figures in various peculiar situations-a Dzama painting , for example, portrays a man being eaten by an alligator, though, by the complacent look on his face, he seems to be sort of OK with it. Nearby, one of Boubat's photographs appears to be of a little girl covered in leaves.

In the center of the gallery stand several large wooden, crate-like structures on which more images hang, indicating the presence of pieces from the almighty vault. As I stood wedged between two pallets of wood, my nose filled with the scent of pine while my eyes filled with an untitled Jackson Pollock print from 1944. It is strategically placed between two other wood pieces on which photographic images hang, clearly digitalized, certainly not Pollock.

The two pieces that made the most sense to me were Andy Warhol's "Saturday Distaster" from 1964 and Wayne Gonzales' "Cheering Crowd" from 2007. Both are large-scale black-and-white images that, upon close inspection, lose their direction. Only when viewed from further away can you tell what you are looking at, an effect that is especially true for Gonzales' piece. He painted three identical scenes of a cheering crowd that, when placed in succession, are not so clearly three of the same scenes. Nor is it obvious that each one is painted with individual strokes, as opposed to a print, like Warhol's. It is after seeing these two pieces that I finally began to understand the exhibit's title better, but right when I thought I had something, it slipped away from my brain like a soggy matzo ball. Nevertheless, being able to see works from such a large time scale in one gallery makes for some introspective art viewing and is certainly worth taking a look at.