Mulligan’s Curiouser Elsewhere
By
Tom Wachunas
“Fantasy,
abandoned by reason, produces impossible monsters; united with it, she is the
mother of the arts and the origin of marvels.” - Francisco de Goya
“Fantasy is escapist, and that is its glory.” - J. R. R. Tolkien
“Everything you can imagine is real.” –
Pablo Picasso
“If
I had a world of my own, everything would be nonsense. Nothing would be what it
is, because everything would be what it isn't. And contrary wise, what is, it
wouldn't be. And what it wouldn't be, it would. You see?” ―
Lewis Carroll, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland & Through the
Looking-Glass
EXHIBIT: Work by Erin Mulligan, at The Hub Art Factory, 336 Sixth Street NW, downtown Canton, THROUGH SEPTEMBER 22, 2020 / viewing hours on Tuesdays 7:30p.m. to 9:30p.m., or by appointment – contact email thehub@gmail.com / (330) 451-6823
Erin Mulligan is
an astonishing observer of… the world. She’s an ardent and prolific reporter on
its animate and inanimate forces. The question is: What world is she reporting,
and were exactly is it?
You could call
her an ardent visual journalist, telling stories about places and circumstances
where communing with heretofore preposterous creatures and circumstances is a
way of life. In her hands, a paintbrush is practically a mythical tool - the
proverbial sorcerer’s wand. With it, Mulligan doesn’t just render familiar
realities, albeit with her remarkable command of Flemish technique. She calls
the impossible into being. She deconstructs rational, common worldliness, and conjures
spectral realities from the intoxicating ether of her robust imagination.
Her paintings are
often tiny windows with a view on large incongruities. In this place – call it
Elsewhere - rabbits might have fangs, breathe fire, or morph into frogs. Cats
might grow wings; fish swim in the air or parachute into fiery battles; humans
could have spider legs, or birth alien parasites. Or they might even grow
lichen on their faces in a symbiotic bonding with the natural world, as in
Mulligan’s recent Mother Nature. The gently smiling woman cradles a cute
brown bunny. Another eerie Elsewhere? Even the air itself in these locales can seem
like equal parts sparkling fairy dust and smoky ash.
And speaking of
smoky, among the more recent pieces included in this compelling mix of old and
new paintings are “pyrographs” – drawings on wood panels made with a heat pen,
such as the lovely portrait, Let Us Die Together. The sheer manual skill
required for carefully burning marks into the wood surface with such a device must
be especially daunting. Mulligan’s remarkably sensitive handling of the tool produced
exquisite, pastel-like subtleties of tone.
So now, let me
dare to go down the rabbit hole of finding meaning and relevance. Is all the
Baroque-ish, chimerical whimsicality in so many of the paintings here really a
metaphor - an embrace of the dualities, the non-sequiturs, the absurdities (whether
delightful or vexing) in our current world? In the end, Mulligan’s Elsewhere -
even at its most uncanny - and our Here and Now, may well be one and the same.
Curiouser and curiouser.
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