Local look: chico
MUSINGS ON THE CHICO ART SCENE
A projection of the foothills on fire was the only sobering imagery in this otherwise sunny exhibit. The rest of the predominantly found-footage film by Chatkupt was sunlit, haunting, non-narrative, faintly documentary, and encapsulates the essence of citrusy Pasadena where both artists reside.
What I had perceived but not identified, until hearing the artists talk, was the presence of children. One can follow the youthful primary colors peppering the show. A lego block (Duplo…I stand corrected), a lemon held in tiny hands, a pacifier next to Nakaue’s ikebana/freakebana-inspired, digitally-animated film. I sense an incandescent childhood amongst these creative adults. Nakaue’s dancing, grass-covered, animated figure (so lovingly rendered), embodies the myth of Sasquatch matched with equal parts meme and gif. Her freakebana’s (the less formal, sometimes ugly, and very cool cousin of traditional Japanese floral arrangement, ikebana), contains the plants that remind Nakaue of her own Hawaiian childhood. Chatkupt built altar-like arrangements of photographs, criss-crossing powerlines, the cast shadow of a palm frond, rocks, leaves, and seed pods commemorated against white backgrounds, truly become treasures when removed from their hyper-urban landscape.
0 Comments
Field Notes features the plein air works of Rebecca Wallace and Rebecca Shelley at 1078 Gallery for September 2019. One is greeted immediately by a sage green title wall, with a display of quick sketches and paintings and a few curios; a refreshing break from the typical white gallery cube. The exhibition has the familiarity of a cabinet filled with heirlooms, accentuated by Shelly’s plein air quilts and rebuilt antique singer. Quilts have a warmth and proclivity for intimacy, but there is a range demonstrated in Shelley’s quilts that separates them from their utilitarian heritage. On top of the physical patchwork lies swirling stitches that bubble, creating a pebble-like texture against the brown fabric of “Poppies.” Many of her textiles constitute mixed media, utilizing paint and colored pencil. Splendid defiance of expectations abounds in this collaboration. Where one would expect the soft, organic shapes often found in nature, the visitor is met with a surprising degree of structure. Wallace’s prints offset her more naturalistic oil paintings with patterns and geometry in faded Diebenkorn-like blues. Shelly’s quilted beach scenes also deny the sweeping curves of the ocean lapping the sands with rigid, geometric rhythm in varying shades of fabric. The studies, Singer, and woodblocks on display open a window into their journey; two artists, sometimes dappled in sunlight or dampened by fog and ocean breeze. Reminders of their process through an unfinished quilt and the equipment they used to create, reminds us of transition. A gallery exhibit often suggests something finished and in some ways stagnant, but the notion of remaining potential is fitting for plein air work. It is as though their process is unfinished, perpetually changing, much like the natural settings they spent days in will continue to change after the artists depart. Violet thread in Shelly’s flowers is echoed in Wallace’s painted cliffside, a seamless transition, their creativity extended from how they create their own personal work, into how they marry the media and expression. It is strange to feel at home in a space that still challenges and provokes, and Wallace and Shelly do just that. Perfectly. Pakbaz creates a dreamy environment of acid-tinged pastels in her newest exhibition to date, Mariam Pakbaz: Something Not Yet Made. Washes of color layered with expertly illustrated figures and animals create an unsettled nostalgia. Brilliant mustards on warm wood grain, and majestic deer recall masculine 70s advertisements whereas languid ballet dancers in cool, distressed blues resting on green foliage echo Art Nouveau qualities.
Wistfulness is peaked by the carefully selected omissions. An obscured face, a stroboscopic pencil outline of a figure, and the overall gauzy appearance visually depict the ache of memories. Haunting, sweet, harsh, and lovely. Looking at her work takes me to memories of reading hand-me-down children’s books with gold binding, how one decade blends into the next before truly becoming distinct, slowly dissolving faces of people I have not seen for a long time. Aptly titled, Something Not Yet Made feels like an invitation to see where her mind travels next. |
AuthorSara Smallhouse is tenure-track faculty in Art History at Butte College, teaches every once in a while at CSU, Chico, and is on the Board of Directors of monca (Museum of Northern California Art). She likes to walk around and look at things with her family, friends, or solo. Archives
February 2022
Categories |