Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit at Fabric Workshop and Museum

The show’s title honors Marion “Kippy” Boulton Stroud, FWM’s founder and its only artistic director until her death in August of last year. “Rabbit rabbit rabbit” is an old tradition: Some believe that by repeating the phrase as the first thing you say on the first day of the month, you’re promised good fortune all month. Stroud typically emailed or texted it to the FWM staff.

Rabbit’s works are displayed on two floors of FWM’s main building. A visitor services assistant led me to the seventh floor and oriented me to the order of the pieces, which are not labeled, but are identified on a printed guide. Then he stepped back so I could experience the work in my own way.

Encouraging deeper viewing, dialogue

Visitors are escorted at FWM, and though it may seem intrusive at first, especially for individuals or small groups, the practice is helpful because of the fractured gallery layout — separate floors in two unconnected buildings — and because this is contemporary art. Visitors will have questions and, since almost everyone on staff is an artist, it’s handy to have one nearby.

Confused by four closely spaced items, for instance, I turned to my guide, who pointed out that the African wax cloth pieces are all by Joy Ude and echo one another: The designs in the two wall pieces reappear in two tiny dresses suspended from the ceiling (Chief III/Nna Nnam and Matriarch III/Nne Ochie, all 2014).

FWM’s printed exhibit guide is equally helpful; it not only lists titles and materials, but also provides brief explanations of the artists’ intentions. When a piece appeals on sight, and especially when it doesn’t, it’s useful to find out what the creator had in mind. Understanding that intention can make a viewer linger, even reconsider. And then if the work is dismissed, it isn’t out of ignorance.

Take Shelby Donnelly’s Water Compositions (2015). Unaided, I would not have realized that the assemblage of pool ladders, fabric, and flickering, high-definition video represents the sensation and meditative effect of bathing. Having never found this kind of inspiration in the tub, Donnelly’s work makes me want to embrace more fully everyday tasks, to remain intellectually present instead of just, as it were, rinsing and repeating.

Works in fabric, paint, print, sculpture

Sophie Sanders’s Blue Brains (2014) is a 7-by-9-foot swath of silk divided into nine squares, each with an image of a cranium or its contents. It’s obviously blue, and there are brains, but without the information provided, I would not have understood that it is the artist’s commentary on phrenology. This corrosive theory, that the sizes and shapes of human skulls — considered both individually and as members of racial groups —indicate relative intelligence, continued to influence society long after it had been debunked by science.

The title was enough to make me appreciate Serena Niesley’s We Find in You Everything We Ever Could Call Home (2011), a soothing etching depicting three small figures silhouetted against a huge night sky, surrounded by grasses, leaves, clouds, a rippling pond, and specks that could be birds or stars.

An island inhabited by discards

Thematically, Josh Graupera’s Blockadia (2015) is a denser dreamscape, but a decoder was close at hand: The artist was my guide. Graupera, a native of Lancaster who now lives in Philadelphia’s Francisville section, is the child of immigrants. He’s created numerous works about his creation, Blockadia, an island society inhabited by discarded people, places, and things. Through his work, he explores the concept of sanctuary, of leaving one’s birthplace to find safety, opportunity, a better life. The piece on exhibit, Graupera said, called on all of his skills to execute, including drawing, painting, screenprinting, and Xerox transfer.

Perhaps those with deep knowledge and long experience in contemporary art do not need the human and printed assistance FWM provides, but for those of us who attend an exhibit because we like the title, well, a bit of guidance can’t hurt. I went to Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit for the title, but stayed for the art.