The term “abstract art” is
a wide umbrella under which many forms of abstraction
gather. To the layman, abstract is any type of art that
contains imagery that is mostly unrecognizable in our
real world—variations of color, line and form that
do not immediately allow us to pinpoint their origin or
understand their significance. Still, these abstractions
speak to us on another level, tapping into our subconscious
wiring that demands we find form and meaning in everything,
and they allow us to imprint our own unique vision onto
what we see without any preconceived guidelines.
In curator Alex Brown’s show, “We Are Abstract,”
the Cal Poly student and artist has pulled together a
variety of abstractions—from geometric to lyrical,
partial and complete—and the works are a fitting
representation of the broad ground abstract artists can
cover.
R.T. Pece’s two Seussian acrylics on canvas, Lobed
Mover and Green Stripe, take us on a vibrant romp through
a fanciful world inhabited by brightly colored shapes
rolling and cogging along, neither robotic nor organic,
all propelled toward faraway destinations for reasons
of their own whim and volition.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, Ann Phong’s
great swaths and swirls of movement and texture, A Molded
Thought and Dancing in Circle, are fluid and enigmatic,
stuck with a few recognizable springs, cardboard and sundry
other wares, splashing them about in waves of copper and
plum. A.S. Ashley takes a decidedly darker approach in
his industrial-strength No Air, where we find the lid
of a Ziploc storage container and a respirator mask embedded
into gray furrows and wire grating, turning them into
fossils of an ancient extermination ripe to be unearthed
as artifacts of pollution and progress. Carly Clarke’s
untitled bronzy mixed media of what appears to be a dozen
shattered pots and nipples—really—is also
on an archeological level and might induce visions of
a post-Armageddon kegger gone terribly awry.
Juan Thorp’s newest work departs from his mechanical
animals and is a success—the orange, rutty imprint
of Cell Phone and bloody red gouges on Pot draw us into
forbidden terrain from which we might not escape. Shari
Wasson’s exceptionally light and welcoming graphite
and pastels, Vale and Mantle, however, jet us far away
from terrestrial trodding and hover us above our human
world, surveying the invisible ground below through rumbly,
voluptuous clouds.
Yarn and thread can also be the thing—and not just
for Simplicity patterns or kitten-play, as evidenced in
Cindy Goldman’s two encaustics of multicolored strings
embedded in wax (one pruned, the other fraying off wildly);
Nicole Henning, Natalie Vincent and FORD might just give
that furry feline a heart attack in their chaotic yarn
installation, Maybe We Should Be Sarcastic, to which the
answer is always “yes”—and therefore,
well-done.
Alex Brown also seems to like a bit of fun, and his installation,
Ignorant Drawings, invites us to sit (park bench provided)
and peruse a hundred quick mini ballpoint pen sketches
tacked to the back wall with titles such as, “Girl
Walking,” “Guy Walking” and “Girl
Smoking.”
The highlight of the show, however, is the five aluminum
sheet metal panels from Luisa Cohrs—each a masterful
treat in every way. In iPhone Message, Cohrs gives us
pieces of a lamenting text message via black marker, accented
by spray painted falling leaves, a blue, tear-eyed unhappy
face and a tide of red into which they will be soon submerged.
Using the same media, her Je Veux Voyager Bientôt
(roughly, “I want to travel, see you soon”)
begins the story of a little paper boat embarking on multicolored,
choppy water, adventure. Minas spotlights a severed landmine
with grenade boarder, and Renaissance Gumbo, besides being
one of the coolest titles ever, is made up of lovely,
negative pink spray-painted dots; it’s possible
companion, Fly, continues the dotting in black and features
a remarkable yellow-splotch bird winging around above
them, ready to pluck.
Other pieces include Michael Arbogast’s über-minimalist
couplet, Desert, a thousand subatomic hash marks on white
paper, Doogin Paik’s temporal companion pieces Seasons
and David Wade’s frenzied burst into a green graffiti
jungle in Panic.
It’s an exciting and educational show, and both
lovers of the abstract and those who are set on broadening
their range of artistic experiences will find an esoteric
adventure awaiting. Take the trip.
“We Are Abstract” at SCA Project Gallery,
281 S. Thomas St., Unit 104, Pomona, (909) 620-5481; www.scaprojectgallery.org.
Thurs-Sat, noon-4PM. Closing reception Sat, April 24,
6-10PM.
|
