FLATTENED
EVANSTON ART CENTER
CELEBRATING OVER 75 YEARS OF CREATIVITY
2603 SHERIDAN ROAD • EVANSTON, IL 60201
WWW.EVANSTONARTCENTER.ORG • 847-475-5300
FEBRUARY 26 - APRIL 2, 2006
KEITH 0. ANDERSON KATHERINE DRAKE-CHIAL
ALISA HENRIQUEZ JASON SHELBY FRASER TAYLOR
Flattened presents the work of five artists of diverse cultural backgrounds who reinterpret the Utopian vocabulary of modern abstraction by using a variety of processes that bring the imperfections of the real world into their work, challenging the preeminent goal of abstraction — pure, ivory-tower flatness — as espoused by the modernist critic Clement Greenberg. Literally coming off of the wall or up from the floor, or creating dynamic visual separations through the layering of faux flattened shapes appropriated from popular sources, the works in Flattened broaden abstractions ability to communicate to wider audiences by incorporating the wrinkles and creases found in everyday existence.
Born in the United Kingdom, Fraser Taylor comments on the nature of his dislocation from a native landscape through the metaphors of his island-shaped drawings and paintings. Dark and encrusted with collaged fragments of his clothing and other unidentifiable seams and protrusions, Taylor's irregular ovals refuse to be viewed as something capable of transcendence. Instead, they extol a gritty reality as their hybrid of human and natural contours appears to shrink and expand with the forces of unseen psychological tides. The isolation in Taylor's work is particularly palpable in his large mixed media works on paper that hover above the gallery floor on low platforms. Existing somewhere between the mediums of sculpture, found object, and drawing, these works demonstrate Taylor's ability to imbue scarred surfaces of tar-like blacks and distressed greys with the spirit of the debris field of a forgotten coastline at low tide, miring the viewer in the residue of human passage.
Keith Anderson also recognizes the power of reconfiguring humble materials to express the intangibles of culture and landscape that shape identity. Previously, this artist has used match-heads, scorched cotton-balls and black-eyed peas to create minimalist works that transform history and myths into poetic ruminations on personal and cultural history. In his new installation created for this exhibition, Anderson fills one of the gallery walls with a thousand black painted wood clothespins. From a distance, the clothespins create a subtle field of rhythmic abstract marks. Yet, it is the specificity of the individual found form that he has chosen to work with that disrupts the meditative nature of this composition. A symbol of the monotonous and demeaning domestic roles African-Americans were relegated to during and after slavery, the clothespin in Anderson's hand becomes a human surrogate, symbolizing strength and resilience. In this mural-sized installation, the unique gesture of the individual artist's hand, so central to modern abstraction since the Abstract Expressionists, has been replaced by the collective weight of a thousand anonymous gestures that quietly make themselves heard with a resounding authority.
Katherine Drake-Chial demonstrates the dilemma of creating such authority with a personal artistic gesture in a postmodern world that views such demonstrations of expressions with cynicism. She meticulously replicates accidental drips and pours of pigment as part of a feminist deconstruction of the macho gestures of Jackson Pollock and his imitators. Walking a tightrope between deliberation and improvisation, Drake-Chial upends, figuratively and literally, the serrated rivulets of strategically placed arcs of brush strokes that visually activate atmospheric backgrounds of canvases that are worked on by the artist from all sides.
Displaying strength and delicacy, agitation and calm, these sweeping marks evade easy classification as they submerge the truth between layers of strident color harmonies that evoke the territorial graffiti found on the steel delivery doors of urban alleys. It is Drake-Chial’s ability to seemingly disconnect herself (emotionally and physically) from her gestures that allows these highly flattened compositions to retain an injection of discomfort that projects beyond the safety of paintings vocabulary and into the dysfunctional absurdities of life.
The formal quality of flatness and its conceptual relationship to life's uncomfortable overlapping relationships are examined by Alisa Henriquez and Jason Shelby in their works which mine images and patterns found in, and inspired by, popular culture. Born in Kingston, Jamaica, Henriquez has in previous work manipulated fragments of kitsch commercial fabrics and their designs to expose the fallacy of neutral decoration in defining contemporary culture. She continues to look for hidden meanings in rich conflations of geometric, organic and cartoon shapes. Working with transparent watercolor washes and saturated passages of gouache and ink, Henriquez creates Popish palimpsests that resemble existential, rain-soaked funny pages which require the viewer to repeatedly read between the blurred lines to uncover definitive meanings that appear, ultimately to seep through ones fingers. The softness of Henriquez's evocative bleeding contours are contrasted by Shelby's crisp edges and translucent layers of origami folded shapes that capture the hypnotically deceptive nature of virtual reality and the computer screen. The meticulous finish and internal luminosity of his paintings' cool surfaces hold the viewer at a distance, implying the absence of human touch. But it is the deftness of Shelby's applications of understated transparent hues that convey a definitive human presence which beckons the viewer to visually unfold and assemble his compressed, translucent shapes of mysterious forms. While modernism originally saw abstraction as offering a new, improved reality, the artists in Flattened demonstrate that abstractions richness lies in its inescapable human flaws.
John Brunetti, Curator
From, The Chicago Reader, Section 1, October, 19, 2001
by FRED CAMPER
A R T/Consider the Alternatives
Laura Mosquera at the Museum of Contemporary Art, through October 28
Jo-Ann M. Thompson at Miles Aduwaa, through November 17
Katherine Drake Chial: Phenomena at Artemisia, through October 27
Michele Stutts at ARC, through October 27
Local artists have long groused about a lack of attention from museums. Presumably in response, the Museum of Contemporary Art has just begun a year long series of monthly exhibits by "emerging" Chicago artists, "12 x 12: New Artists/New Work." But while a number of those on the list are auspicious choices, the opening exhibition--Laura Mosquera's three drawings, one painting, and a 10-by-24-foot mural--is a disappointment. It's not that her work isn't of interest, but its overall mediocrity raises a number of questions about aesthetic standards and curatorial choices. Why, for instance, is the series focused on emerging artists (Mosquera earned her MFA from the School of the Art Institute two years ago) when a number of accomplished Chicagoans are not represented by a gallery or haven't had a local show in years? Is that focus yet another example of the art world seeking what's hot rather than what's good? Perhaps it's time for museum curators to stop chasing flavors of the month, recognize that there isn't much truly "new" out there, and focus on the viewing experience. I ran across shows by three Chicago artists this month more rewarding to look at than Mosquera's.
Mosquera's work conveys disassociation and ennui. The mural, Interesting Things Will Begin to Develop, which nicely fills the back wall, is distanced, almost blase. Its seven figures stand about as if at a cocktail party, and an abstract background of bands suggests corporate interior decorating--or product packaging. The painting, Can You Feel It, sets five figures against an indistinct pink background punctuated by floating green circles and tiger-striped bands; one woman wears wildly patterned pants. A wall label informs us that the figures are "easily identifiable" by "their clothing, postures, or ethnic backgrounds, yet their lack of distinguishing features lends them a disturbing anonymity," suggesting that they are "trapped in a world of estrangement and isolation."
None of this is as interesting as it ought to be for an artist spotlighted by a big-city contemporary art museum. The figures' "lack of distinguishing features" might well be attributable to an inability to convey the expressive power of even 50s magazine illustration (which this resembles). Robert Longo's signature figures--black-and-white businessmen set in empty space--make isolation more resonant. The use of solid colors as a decorative motif arguably comments on contemporary interiors--but Swiss artist John Armleder did the same, and far more provocatively, more than a decade ago by placing pieces of furniture under his solid-color paintings. I liked Mosquera's cool, detached tone and pleasing color schemes, but there's too much attitude instead of compositional complexity--a frequent problem in the work of recent art school graduates, as is the lack of craft and attention to detail.
Born in New Orleans in 1946 and a Chicagoan since age four, Jo-Ann M.Thompson attended college for only a year and has had limited art training. Her first one-person show--17 paintings and drawings at Miles Aduwaa, a newly opened gallery specializing in African-American women artists--is divided between figurative and abstract work. Thompson cheerfully told me that she gives her figures solid black heads because she can't easily depict faces. Rather than take half measures, she turns her limitation into a virtue by creating stylized shapes that gain iconic power from their generality. Thompson, who prefers to paint abstractly, started doing figures only when she thought that approach might get her into an art competition (it did). Even her figurative paintings, however, are distinguished by abstract patterns a lot more vital than Mosquera's designs. Integral, showing a couple with a child, is dominated by patterns in the clothing that combine repetition and asymmetry, including bands of color that introduce variation just at the point one might expect repetition.
Thompson's abstract paintings are similar. Working improvisationally--"I haven't the slightest idea what it's going to be when I start," she told me--she creates patterns surprising in their energy and (perhaps unplanned) details. Precision sets a complex arrangement of colors against a white background but (like several other works) also incorporates bits of white within the design. At the bottom, one little white "inlet" of the background pokes almost to the center, and thin bands of white border some areas of color. These shifts in white's function, which seem to defy Thompson's own system, recall both early-20th-century geometric abstraction and the energy and varying patterns of African and pre-Columbian textiles.
Katherine Drake Chial acknowledges such influences as Gerhard Richter and Vija Celmins and cites Edmund Burke and Immanuel Kant in her statement, but her 11 paintings at Artemisia are not just thought provoking--they're also ravishing to look at. Born in Dayton in 1964, she moved to Chicago about seven years ago; shortly before that, she'd stopped making sculptures to focus on painting, which for her "is the most difficult, the most challenging medium--and it takes a lifetime to get good at it."
The Masculine Has Become Absurd is animated by a striking contrast: a straight-edged white vertical band down the center (a reference to Barnett Newman's zips) is set against a backdrop of soft, supple patterns of dripped paint and pale stains. In her statement Chial talks about the long established view of the sublime as "vast, powerful, obscure and dark" and what she calls a more recent idea, that "the beautiful is distinguished from the sublime by being associated with lightness, grace, color, diminutiveness and delicacy: attributes we nearly always associate with the feminine." Finding this distinction too simple, Chial sets up contrasts between aggressive "sublime" forms such as the zips and "beautiful" patterns--only to undercut any bifurcation by visually connecting them.
Ice/Mirror is notable for its diverse modes. Two zips appear at the right edge, but what might have resembled a black zip near the center has a jagged outline that helps link it with the subtle blue background. Vague blobs on the left suggest an out-of-focus photograph while a smear at the right looks like liquid spilled on glass and the smoothly varying blue recalls the sky--all contrasts that engage the viewer in active contemplation of the painting.
If Thompson's and Chial's shows are more aesthetically engaging than Mosquera's, Michele Stutts's 27 mixed-media pieces at ARC are less immediately beautiful--she often uses discarded materials, producing a tattered, rough-edged look. But they have an emotional authenticity all the more appealing for her lack of self-pity. Born in Liverpool in 1959 and a Chicagoan since 1970, Stutts says her parents were "emotionally abusive" and that she survived a 16-year "dysfunctional relationship." Her fragmented figures suggest distress, but more than in her ARC exhibit two years ago, Stutts shows an acceptance of disruption and paradox. In the acrylic-and-ink drawing Self Portrait With Cigarette, her nude figure is surrounded by swirling lines that seem to both impinge on and magnify her body--they suggest both a trap and radiant energy.
Attachment suggests the female form in a way that's humorous as much as troubled. A panel covered with old, rough cloth has lace attached to the lower midsection; gathered in a little bag, it evokes pubic hair. An old box connected to the panel by ribbons contains two lace balls--perhaps a joke on phallic absence, perhaps a reference to female fertility. The piece pleasingly combines harsh cloth, delicate lace, and almost threatening tacks (more than are necessary to attach the cloth to the panel). But what's strongest about Attachment is the way its slightly comic mix of painterly and sculptural elements invokes life's imperfect sprawl: a good answer to the cool detachment of well-designed interiors.
Similar formal leaps tend to inform Stutts's best pieces: the abstract Traverse, for instance, uses three panels, from one of which shredded paper juts. Stylistic shifts from one piece to another also keep the viewer engaged and mirror the way each work establishes various relationships between its parts. It's not a show's superficial look that gives it meaning--it's the thoughtful questioning that results from such juxtapositions, conveying life's contradictions.
From the, The Evanston Review, February 23, 2006
A 'Flattened' Look at Abstract Art
BY MYRNA PETLICKI
CONTRIBUTOR
Five contemporary abstract artists from diverse backgrounds, and with very different approaches to their work, are showcased in "Flattened," opening Sunday at the Evanston Art Center.
Roscoe Village artist Katherine Drake Chial's paintings in the exhibit include "Brave New World," a striking image with a bold red center that seems to pulse because of the effect created by dripping paint. The wide, irregular red band is blanketed by shades of blue, green and white, evoking the appearance of a landscape with a lake in the foreground.
After graduating from Kenyon College in Ohio with a degree in history, Chial realized she wanted to pursue an art career. She earned a bachelor of fine arts degree from Michigan State University and a master of fine arts degree from the University of Georgia (both cum laude). The mother of two young children is a full-time artist whose paintings have been exhibited in California, Georgia, Michigan, New York, Oregon and Illinois.
Chial admires the work of American artist Mark Rothko and German artist Gerhard Richter, but often takes her inspiration from reading physics, space, philosophy and art theory. "I'm also very influenced by things that I see in nature," she said.
Chial described her paintings as "process-oriented. I do a lot of pouring and dripping, and yet I try to maintain a certain amount of control. But with a dripper/pourer it's always going to be somewhat random. I try to work within that space between chaos and order."
Anagram art
Jason Shelby of Morton Grove will have five paintings in the exhibition -- two large pieces and three 30-inch by 30-inch works. The names of Shelby's pieces are as imaginative as the works themselves.
"I generally do anagrams," he said. "Creating the title is kind of like how the paintings are created. Things are broken apart and reconstructed -- put back together again in different ways."
He noted that some abstract artists number their paintings. "It's very sterile and the work is not sterile -- it's very imaginative." A listing of Shelby's paintings sounds a bit like a language from an exotic country, including such titles as "Brito Gream," "Mechasonap" and "Brocca Druleb."
One of the larger pieces in the show is called "Creelawpoosh."
"I don't remember what it came from," the artist laughingly admitted.
The predominately blue painting is every bit as imaginative as its name. Spend time studying it and the design elements may lead you to believe that you are seeing a shark, a spaceship or a mechanical toy near the center. This is typical of the artist's arresting style.
"There are no real, tangible things you can see in the work," Shelby said, noting this is a change from his earlier paintings. "Before, there were actual silhouettes and actual objects -- more of a seek-and-find sort of thing. It kind of evolved into (being) totally removed from actual evidence of things."
Shelby uses a multi-step approach to creating his work. When he gets an idea, he first creates a sketch by hand, and then scans it into his computer to further develop it. The final step is reproducing that sketch on canvas in acrylic paint.
Although his work is influenced by many sources and people, Shelby was particularly drawn to artist Lee Bontecou, whose work was featured in a 2004 retrospective at the Museum of Contemporary Art. "She was making work on her terms, and the work was really inspirational," he said.
A full-time artist until very recently, Shelby now works days as a graphic designer -- a financial necessity because he and his wife are expecting their first child. The Oklahoma native, who is in his early 30s, earned a bachelor of fine arts degree four years ago from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. His work has been exhibited at galleries in Arizona, Chicago and Evanston.
Also represented in "Flattened" are artists Keith O. Anderson, Alisa Henriquez and Fraser Taylor.