A Radical Dawn Rises

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Luna Anais Gallery presents a luminous the group exhibition curated by Alicia Piller, Radical Dawn, a series of mixed media works which simply radiate light.

Among the pieces on display are a provocative new look at a city scape as seen from the bumper of a car – as if the headlights had eyes; a floral landscape of fabric with neon igniting behind it; and glowy sculptures and paintings. Artists include Se Young Au, Jessica Taylor Bellamy, Anais Franco, Silvi Naci, Ginger Q, Jaklin Romine, Molly Shea, Sarah Stephana Smith, Linnea Spransy and Kayla Tange.

Reinforcing the Luna Anais mission to exhibit female and nonbinary artists, primarily those local to Southern California, the exhibition focuses on these ten artists meditative and spiritual approaches in many of the pieces on display.

Molly Jo Shea’s “Excited Over Nothing” is an air dancer covered in sequins and beads, hand applied during the pandemic. As the inflated figure rises and dramatically falls, wonderfully depicting the hope and despair of pandemic times, the magic of this work is not just its green and silver shine but its exuberance. Even if the face of dark depression, something glitters.

Silva Naci’s work utilizes natural elements in uniquely distinctive ways.  “Untitled (Pussy)” uses an exuberantly bright color palette of vivid blue and lemon yellow in wool and natural dyes using a process that harkens back to the artist’s Albanian ancestors, and their traditional weavers. It pops with color and an almost hypnotic sense of motion.

As to Naci’s mid-fire ceramic, “Tabaka (Ass Up),” the concept of a traditional serving tray is upended by the idea of serving up a woman to suitors in a beautiful beige and brown swirling work that resembles both the sweets served to the suitors to help woo them and the open vulnerability of the women being presented.

Also working in ceramic is Anais Franco. Along with wood elements, the sculptural piece “7 C’s of Resilience” offers a delicate complexity in its poetic and symbolic approach to memory and connection. The almost impossibly detailed, beautiful work is both ritualistic and transcendent.

Sarah Stefana Smith presents a screen, monofilament, bird netting and thread weaving in “Flag to the Aybss No. 3” a surreal flag-like hanging that appears both mystical and futuristic, a kind of magical approach to time warps, black holes, and other undefinable regions of the universe, both external and personal.

More concretely delineated but no less magical are two works by Jessica Taylor Bellamy, her ethereal resin and wire “Palm Veil” suspended over “Ecology IV: Horizons of Manic Striving and Photogenic Decline,” an impressive sculpture of a repurposed BMW bumper, video projected images of city scape, and dried wildflowers. Positioned well in the gallery space with La Brea Ave. as an outdoor backdrop, the bumper appears to have come in off the street, and the viewer to be experiencing what the disembodied vehicle itself may have seen.

Wood, clay, and plexiglass are the “Vessels of Memory. Emotional bodies. Moments of loss transcend. (Haunted Scream Bowls)” created by Kayla Tange. These are delicate, even gloriously poetic sculptures about memory, sentiment, love, and pain. Impossibly fragile looking, reflective in the plexiglass elements, they are as poetic as their title.

Se Young Au takes immersion to a new level with scented elements contained in a glass covered, white porcelain flower, over which are hung poly satin blocks of archival digital prints in her “Inexhaustible Abundance, Form 1.”

To the viewer, there is a sense of elegy and haunting sadness; the artist’s explanation leads one to into a look at not only grief but that within the context of the damages wrought by U.S. imperialist dominance.

Two artists, Jaklin Romine and Ginger Q created “Efflorescence Grip-Con Luz,” the fabric and neon piece that asks us to explore perception in its depiction of hands holding flowers suspended against the curved neon.

And Linnea Spransy’s acrylic on canvas “Patience” (above) looks at remembrance and attainment of “good death” against the context of the modern world in a mysteriously patterned divided image of dark and light that seems to represent both the Heavenward and the Hellbound paths as a kind of intricate puzzle. Spransy’s work in this exhibition is just one of the light-infused standouts.

Collectively, the exhibition is filled with motion and suffused with light, a tribute to grief, loss, change, and a sense of passage. That passage may lead through life, change the course of a life, impose dictates of social mores and rules on life, pull us from our purpose or path, but along the road, however rough, there is the chance at a transition, a journey out of darkness or sorrow or containment into a new day, one in which constraints are lifted, pasts celebrated, and futures more tentatively hopeful.

What we may see in the beams of our own headlights, in the sheen of our own neon is a Radical Dawn, lighting and igniting a new way forward.

With that in mind, Piller’s curatorial first exhibition for Luna Anais is a great place to spend at least a portion of the July 4th weekend, with artists, curator and a wine reception on July 2nd from 2 to 6 p.m.

The exhibition is located in the D2 Art space at 1205 North La Brea Avenue in Inglewood, CA 90302 and is open every Thursday-Saturday from 11:30 a.m. to 7 p.m. through July 10th.

  • Genie Davis, photos by Genie Davis

The Spiritual Vision of Memories of Tomorrow’s Sunrise

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Art fills the soul as well as the eyes in the poetic Memories of Tomorrow’s Sunrise at CSULA’s Ronald H. Silverman Fine Arts Gallery. Curated by Jason Jenn and Vojislav Radovanovic with Mika Cho, the four-gallery exhibition is a deep dive into what makes us human, and what makes each human who they are.

Participating artists include Enrique Castrejon, Serena JV Elston, Anita Getzler, Jason Jenn, Ibuki Kuramochi, Marne Lucas, Trinh Mai, Vojislav Radovanović, Hande Sever,  Marval A Rex, Kayla Tange, Nancy Kay Turner, and Jessica Wimbley.

The works are each, in their own way, about the connective tissue of ancestry and relationships, identity, and history – both genealogical and spiritual. Some honor family, both those of our bloodlines and those chosen long after birth. Others focus on exploring present hopes and past dreams. There are images that witness loss, honor mentors, explore sexuality, refer to tragedies, relate to purpose, and search for true essence of being alive.

Primarily mixed media in terms of medium, these works are as layered visually as they are with meaning. While each artist’s creation can stand on its own, the interaction between the works is important here. There is real effort in not just bringing the art together in visual conversation, but in allowing viewers and artists alike to explore the power of personal understanding.

The show’s title suggests, according to the curators, that “Collectively, we are the ancestors of tomorrow’s sunrise and someday we shall all be but a memory.” As viewers, we pass unseen as ghosts in front of each, very much alive, work. Conversely, we are also participants in future memories of our own, involved in the immersive experience of viewing, and in our own individual inchoate ways, seeking to share and preserve what we’ve seen.

The large-scale work from Enrique Castrejon, “The Realization You are Losing Your Memory with Frequent Confusion and Disorientation” is a part of a larger series about his father’s chronic illnesses and dementia. Having served as a caregiver during his father’s illness, Castrejon’s electrifying image portrays a deconstructed human body in fragmented shapes, parts linked with artists tape and thumbtacks in a spidery vein-like web of concern, chaos, love, and loss. Strips of printed data from Alzehimer’s Los Angeles stripe the body parts like the wrappings on mummies.

Loss is also at the center of Hande Sever’s “2 or 3 Things I know About Her.” Walnut frames, appearing to represent coffins support and envelope a series of photographs. The photos are reenactments of her young mother’s arrest as a political prisoner during Turkey’s 1980 right-wing junta. It’s a powerful statement on identity and purpose, as well as on politics supported by the U.S. as a military business.

Vojislav Radovanovic’s “Years Devoured by Locusts” also examines the implications of imprisonment and generational trauma, as well as referencing climate change and our imprisoningly slow reaction to it. It’s a graceful work using natural elements such as a wasp nest and tree branches to create a scene that echoes both desolation and beauty. Broken mirror fragments spill like drying water under a tree derelict of leaves, analog television sets play a mix of nature images and static, signifying the potential loss of all these living things, but a wasp honeycomb revolves on a small stand with colored lights, a tiny rainbow of hope that life may still find a way.

Trinh Mai’s “Begins with Tea” takes up a front wall in the exhibition, family photos printed on joss paper, and held, along with seeds, herbs, dried noodles, and grain inside Mai’s grandmother’s used tea bags. Poignant and elegiac, the installation represents the stories about family and friends told by her grandmother over afternoon tea. The delicate, almost ephemeral tea bag pouches are as fragile as the remembrances they contain and steeped in love. A soft, barely-there scent of tea envelopes the wall on which the bags are hung with sewing needles that also belonged to the artist’s grandmother.

Also paying tribute to domestic rituals, is the largest of Nancy Kay Turner’s several fine works here, “Burnt Offerings.” Using parchment paper stained from the bread Turner baked on it during the pandemic, she adds gold leaf, glitter spray, vintage sheet music and paper tree bark among other materials collaging and painting them over the parchment. The result is a series of overlaid impressions, both abstract art and moments of hope and sorrow. Like Biblical burnt offerings, the archival work traces a period of great loss and sacrifice and creates an almost holy elegy from the act of making bread. Turner’s work also has a sub-context of another burnt offering altogether, that of those lost to flame in the Holocaust and at Hiroshima.

Anita Getzler’s “Pieces of Mourning” is direct about its heartbreaking memorial for genocide and imprisonment. There are crushed rose petals and broken rose thorns in small jars, thorny branches wrapped in bronze wire, memorial yahrzeit candle holders containing old watches – like those taken from Holocaust victims – with the faces of the watches holding more crushed petals. Getzler also includes a scroll featuring the names of those sent to concentration camps when deported from a French village. As a memoir of stories told to the artist by her parents, who were themselves holocaust survivors, it is deeply moving. As a work of art, it is a stunning mix of dark textures illuminated with the flickering glow of the brass wires, an electric yahrzeit lamp, and a spirit of love.

Brighter notes are sounded in Jason Jenn’s “sharing a seat with the poets,” depicting a mentor/mentee relationship, a tribute to chosen family. Arrayed along a settee, are precious minerals, plants and books. Colorful light plays with shadows on these special objects chosen to represent knowledge and growth, wisdom, and joy. Pillows on the floor represent the seating or and a conversation between the parties in the relationship, and a sense of warmth and love pervades the sculptural grouping.

In the exhibition’s darkroom, Kayla Tange’s “A Chance to Be Seen” glows. A sculptural display of illuminated documents of her adoption and letters between herself and her mother, the piece explores the complications of origin, human commodification, and the potency of artistic transformation. Ibuki Kuramochi’s “Prenatal Memory and Species” turns toward a larger picture, going beyond the personal to evolution, the maternal process, and the beginning of human life in her mysterious and evocative mix of projected media, chains, and a silicone pregnant belly. Expressing a fascinating connection between personal longing Serena JV Elston’s sculpture “Elemental Hunger” is among several richly involving works by the artist. As with other works in the exhibition, there is a visceral element, here the heat from the electric hot plate coil serving as the spiral center to the piece. Jessica Wimbley offers a beautiflu video collage that explores spiritual and physical edges, in “Edges.” The piece uses hair as a space for memory and storytelling.

Other works not discussed in depth are equally intrinsic parts of Memories of Tomorrow’s Sunrise, including a series of fine porcelain sculptures by Marne Lucas and vibrant mixed media from Marval A. Rex connecting mind to body.

Exhibiting artists and co-curators with gallery director Mika Cho, Jason Jenn and Vojislav Radovanovic

While many artists have created work that recalls dark events, the overall experience of the exhibition is that of hope and resilience. If art is a mirror, this mirror reflects memories, including and perhaps especially the traumatic ones, and alchemizes them with the magic that makes us human. Art grants artist and viewer alike the strength of spirit that allows us to take a good long look into the past, which is, after all, what today will be – tomorrow.

The exhibition runs through July 15th, with a closing event that day; a Zoom artist talk is set for June 28th, and an in-person performance scheduled for July 6th. The Ronald H. Silverman Gallery is located in the California State University campus Fine Arts Building.

  • Genie Davis; photos by Genie Davis

 

Aviary Soared – Curated by Betty Brown at Loft at Liz’s an Astonishingly Lovely Group Show

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With Aviary, the just-closed massive group exhibition curated by Betty Brown at Loft at Liz’s, birds of many feathers flocked together in a wonderful all-media exhibition that ranged from the sculptural to paintings, mixed media, and more.

There was the fragile, poignant newspaper-based work of Nurit Avesar, and the lineoleum block ink tattoo of a fighting cock on rich crimson from Edwin Vasquez. Six stunning free-form sculptural works by Samuelle Richardson, working in fabric over armature to create birds in flight. Calling out, and about to fly, they were arrayed in the project room; Debbie Korbel’s cardboard, steel, and wood “As the Crow Flies”  took off from the floor in the front gallery.

Placed with Richardson’s work, Joanne Julian evoked the brush strokes of Japanese calligraphy in her graceful graphite, ink, and prisma color work. Cynthia James oil on copper work seethed with salmon color in the same space while Jodi Bonassi’s vibrantly colored, intensely detailed canvas works were joined by her own sepia toned, simpler birds created on paper bags, and equally sublimely magical.

Like a shedding royal cape, feathers fell from a large scale work by artists Cheryl Dullabaun and Linda Parnell in the lush, regal “Volaries.” John M. White positioned his paintings of birds on wires; L. Aviva Diamond’s riveting archival pigment prints soared in black and white.  Edwin Vasequez provided “Mayan Birds” as masks, evoking both totem poles and Mayan civilizations.

Kaoru Mansour presented works on wood panel illuminated with gold leaf and thread.

Dean and Laura Larson offered a phenomenal collaboration. Laura Larson’s astonishingly alive bronze sculptures, “Birds in Mourning,” were paired with a beautiful large-scale composite photograph by Dean Larson that placed the sculptural works within a fully invented setting.

As very different as they were striking, works by Bibi Davidson – touching on the vibrantly surreal, and rich works from Deena Capparelli both each provided immersive visual stories. Quite different works by Roberto Benevidez were equally filled with movement and power, his astonishingly alive sculptural birds perched on wooden dowls. Jill Sykes’ work glistened and shone in spare, graceful patterns.

Seventeen artists in all presented work, which viewed collectively was like entering an actual aviary, filled with varied birds from every corner of the world. Feathers, captured in sculpture or paint, photography or mixed media erupted in a swirl of motion and color, layered and lovely, fragile yet powerful.

Collectively, the works spoke to each other in a kind of contrasting, wonderful cacophony of song you could almost hear, wings you could almost feel brushing the air of the gallery space. There were resting birds, fighting birds, flying birds, perching birds, floating birds, sleeping birds. While the opening was crowded with artists and guests, on a quiet afternoon, one could almost hear the birds rustle, stir, and soar.

Vivid, beautiful odes to the longing for flight and the joy and pain of this species and our own – each work joined in this aching chorus.  If you missed it, but would like to possess a winged thing or two, reach out to the gallery or curator.

Loft at Liz’s is located at 453 S. La Brea Ave.

  • Genie Davis; photos: Genie Davis

Can You Fear and Adore Flowers? Artist Susan Melly Provides Answers in New Work at LAAA

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   In a way, who isn’t afraid, just a little bit, of flowers? We may fear their incredible fragility, of losing them to an all-too-quick death, to knowing their perfection is ephemeral and their beauty so temporary – an aching reminder of our own mortality.
   However, for artist Susan Melly in her new Emerging Fear of Flowers now at LAAA ‘s Gallery 825 in West Hollywood, her emerging fear was something different, risen from over two years of COVID-19 pandemic isolation. During that time period, Melly’s husband brought her a weekly bouquet of flowers from an open air market. As her own statement informs viewers “As my anxiety blossomed, my art making changed and became more abstract and colorful to ward off my dark feelings. Each work is embedded with a hint of humor – and the number 19 – as an homage to coping mechanisms, even as familiar sources of comfort counterintuitively transform into a strange beauty that is tinged with the edge of the unknown.”
   After about a year of receiving the flowers, despite the loving intention of bringing beauty and romance to her life, she began to ask hereslf if she would be “condemned” to receiving the flowers every single Friday for the rest of her life, indicating that the pandemic would never end. The blossoms blossomed – into increased anxiety, alleviated through her art. As viewers we can witness this progression in her new body of work, and revel in its layers, as fragile-seeming as flowers themselves.
   The works of course make use of Melly’s signature use of vintage tissue paper dress patterns, something that she terms an “integral part of my practice and personal history…” As a mixed media artist, the LA-based Melly creates work that includes paintings, assemblage-based sculptures, and installations. In this latest body of work, there is a powerful new energy as these flowers morph with the artist, spin discs on an old Victrola record player, weep, rail in anger, whine in frustration, sing, and seethe.  Do flowers mourn their entrapment in bouquets? Do they discuss day to day travails as they grow in the garden, rage and wish to curse those who pick them? While we may never know, here Melly certainly posits that they might.
   Within the primarily paint and mixed media on canvas works are a variety of sculptural pieces.  While some stand alone, a vintage sewing machine, a male figure bearing flowers, “Hanging Out,” is a wall scupture. It emerges like a being encased in and protruding from the wall itself,  a partial mannequin entrapped despite a glowing heart and uterus at its center, sheathed and layered with the dress patterns.
   The titular “Emerging Fear of Flowers” is a colorful mix of the tissue patterns, acrylic, and art paper on canvas.  While a hand holds a cocktail glass in the right corner, center stage is an alien looking three pronged flower that seems to have grown eyes, and one prong is looking and leaning and reaching ominously toward that hand. The viewer can’t help but think of Little Shop of Horrors and Audrey, that musical’s violently sentient plant.  It is a large work, vibrant with indigo and burgandy; the human hand, however, is so white it could easily belong to a person confined from the sunlight in which these flowers gained a robust if menacing vitality.
   Melly’s “Cut Stems” also makes use of the tissue dress patterns combined with acrylic.  These highly geometric flowers have sharp edged like wind mills and are exhibiting just emerging facial features.
   With “Enter Covid,”  what’s blossoming here appears to be the shape of COVID itself, entering via a kind of conduit into an abstract human vessel.  Layers of white on white recall bandages, sheets, and fog, as if a ghostly landscape now enveloped us all.

   Quoting Charles Baudelaire with the title “Evil Comes up Softly Like a Flower,” Melly uses acrylic, charcoal, and dress patterns to make one of the most ominous, yet still amusing, paintings in this series. Here, flowers have teeth and raging faces.

But they are comfortably more relatable in “Dandelion Wine,” in which a dandelion tears out its seeds in frustration.

And we can feel intense empathy for the sad blooms in works such as “Un-Still Life,” in which a lavendar, daisy-like flower has thorns and weeps purple blooded tears.

   In another work, the artist herself melds or morphs into a flower, a pale periwinkle and peacefully meditative one, in “Portrait of the Artist as a Young Lotus.” Surrounded by a geometric abstract patterns, the figure is part statue, part flower, absorbed fully in the act of blooming, yet trapped in stillness.

   Perhaps, we can hope that our time in pandemic shut down can allow us to achieve a similarly mesmerized state. Viewing Melly’s delicate, lovely, and unsettling works may just have that effect.
   Melly’s work is beautifully paired with the light-based blend of Richard Slechta’s photography and art, Incompressible Flow; Chris Madens’ glowy dimensional assemblies, The Covid Kiss; and a group show, Felicitious,  an all-media compilation depicting the current zeitgeist.
   The exhibition is on view through June 24th. Gallery 825 is located at 825 N. La Cienega.  Melly is offering curated visits; the gallery is also open by appointment at other times, reach out at gallery825@laaa.org.
Genie Davis – images provided by the artist