Personal Capitulations
By Tom Wachunas
“The creative
process is a process of surrender, not control.” –Julia Cameron
Exhibit: Surrenderings at Lynda Tuttle’s Art
Center, THROUGH JULY 25, 209 6th Street NW, downtown Canton. Gallery
hours: Wednesday and Thursday Noon to 5 p.m. / Friday Noon to 7 p.m. / Saturday
10 a.m to 3 p.m. Participating artists: Bill
Bogdan, Karen Bogdan, Margene May, Sandy Paradis, Clare Sikora, Amy Tuttle,
Lynda Tuttle, David Whiteman, Nicole Wong, Charlene Snyder, Lynda Rimke. www.lyndatuttle.com
Lynda Tuttle,
owner and curator of Lynda Tuttle’s Art Center in downtown Canton, offers this
definition of surrender for her latest
group show of 11 local artists, titled Surrenderings:
“The act of laying down an inner desire or will for the greater choice before
us. Gut wrenching and painful, glorious and freeing…”
The operative
theme here (and for that matter the look of the art) isn’t about illustrating
disastrous outcomes or the frenzied waving of white flags amid abject defeat. The
art, in a wide array of media, addresses something more subtle and deeply
personal – maybe even noble. Call it a submission to, or acceptance of phenomena
or circumstances beyond the artists’ personal control. These works, each
accompanied by a statement from the artist, are essentially confessional in
nature.
Among the more
resonant works here are three self- portraits in pencil by Lynda Rimke. They’re
simple yet disarmingly candid explorations of her medical condition called
stereo-blindness. I get the sense that she’s not looking out at the viewer so much as carefully navigating the act of
seeing. The mirror becomes her lens on an inward journey.
Clearly more outward-focused
are the two sumptuous quilt works (collectively called Inception) by Karen Bogdan. Their surfaces shimmer with iridescent
colors and metallic thread. Interlocking and overlapping organic shapes suggest
waves of cosmic energy and clouds of light emanating from a central source –
God in the act of creation. You might call them contemporary devotional icons,
or close encounters of the divine kind.
The large,
surreal black and white woodcut print called Shadows by Bill Bogdan (Karen’s husband) is at once earthbound and
ethereal. The composition is an intriguing mix of symbols which seem to embrace
the notion of existential impermanence – things, ideas, and people appearing
and fading away with the passage of time. The persistence of change.
One fascinating
twist here is Bogdan’s presentation of three smaller prints below the large
main image. These smaller images are actually sections pulled from the original
block. Two of those sections are upside down, so that what were images of “buried”
forms in the large landscape above now appear to rise upward in perhaps a
reference (taking a cue from the cross on the horizon in the large print) to
the cycle of death and resurrection.
A consistent trait of Bogdan’s prints is their
simplicity and rawness of drawing (cutting) along with the integration of visible
grain patterns in the wood block. Another characteristic is the variability of
saturation in his blacks. He hand-rubs his prints, which can result in a
blotchiness that tends to give the imagery a diluted look - something I’ve
regarded as mildly problematic in past pieces. Interestingly enough, though,
these specific aspects work well together in Shadows, further imbuing
the work with its strong sense of eerie transience.
When you visit this gallery, you’ll no doubt
notice that Lynda Tuttle has assigned a significant portion of her wall space
to ongoing exhibition of Margene May’s stunning, 2-D fiber portraits. But May
offers another particularly compelling work in the Surrenderings show with her first venture into 3-D portraiture.
Her Surrender
is a sculpture comprised of two pre-formed mannequin heads collaged with beautifully
patterned pieces of black and white fabric. Prompted by the challenges faced,
so to speak, by a single parent raising a child, the work depicts a mother and
daughter. As in her wall pieces, May achieves a remarkable degree of subtle
facial expressivity with her materials.
Notice, then, the faces. Mother is quietly
somber, yet neither disconsolate nor hopeless. Her eyes are fixed in a gently
contemplative, downward gaze, as if measuring her forward progress into
uncertain territory. Daughter looks ahead with the slightest hint of a smile crossing
her lips, secure and serene for the time being.
Sweet surrender
indeed. It is a moment most exquisite.
PHOTOS (from top):
Surrender by Margene May; Inception, quilt by Karen Bogdan; Shadows, three
woodcut prints by Bill Bogdan
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