Soulful Entrées
Requiescat in Pace, by Tom Wachunas 
Naame (Reputation), by Chad Troyer 
Coat of Sheer Empowerment, by Judi Krew 
Seeing is Hearing, by Rodney Atwood 
Birth of Matter, by Janis Salas 
Fractured Light, by Emily Orsich
By Tom Wachunas
“Art is a step from what is obvious and well-known toward
what is arcane and concealed.” - Kahlil
Gibran
A work becomes a work of art when one re-evaluates the
values of nature and adds one's own spirituality. — Emil Nolde
EXHIBIT: Annual Stark County Artists Exhibition / at
Massillon Museum, THROUGH JANUARY 15, 2023 / 121 Lincoln Way East,
downtown Massillon, OH / (330) 833-4061 /
70 works of art by 49 artists (selected from 225 works
submitted by 85 artists). More info, and participating artists, listed here:
https://www.americantowns.com/event/stark-county-artists-exhibition-2022-12-23-massillon-oh.html
While 2022 was for me - as for many of us, I suspect - an exceptionally
daunting year in multiple areas of living, through all of it I have remained grateful
for the ability to still make and look at art.
And in these fragile, conflicted times, some of the most moving works in
this exhibit resonate on deeply spiritual planes with art that embraces and
feeds the reality of the human soul. That said, I’m elated that my most recent
artwork was accepted into this eclectic congregation of artists offering their
responses to being alive. If you care to read more about my piece, click this
link to my short blog post from July:
https://artwach.blogspot.com/2022/07/rest-in-piece.html
Meanwhile, here are
a few entrées I found particularly savory.
Fractured Light, an aptly-titled
acrylic/ mixed media canvas by Emily Orsich, is a startling storm of scribbled
marks and frenetic painterly gestures all aswirl in an exploding field of
gritty textures. An apocalyptic encryption, it’s an epic war of opposites:
light vs. darkness, good vs. evil. The world swallowed up and spit out.
Far less ominous, the
mixed media work on paper by Janis Salas, called Birth of Matter, is a
mesmerizing sort of calligraphy. Look inside. Subtly nestled in the meticulous
repetition of all those thin, black-white-grey curling lines, are wispy dots
and dashes of other colors. Words, whispered across the waves, on the cusp of declaration,
as in a divine command: Let there be… blue sky and fertile earth.
Which brings up an
intriguing question: Can we hear a painting? We’ve all at one time or another
uttered that age-old response to a powerful image along the lines of, “Wow,
that really speaks to me.” What, then, might we hear when looking at Seeing
is Hearing, a large acrylic on canvas abstraction by Rodney Atwood? What is this bold, teasing simplicity? An object
lesson in synesthesia? The sound of one hand clapping? Maybe it’s a distressed
pink dolphin, flapping noisily on a purple urban shoreline, bleating the words
of Wassily Kandinsky, from his 1911 book, Concerning the Spiritual in Art: “Color
directly influences the soul. Color is the keyboard, the eyes are the hammers,
the soul is the piano with many strings. The artist is the hand that plays,
touching one key or another purposively, to cause vibrations in the soul.”
Judi Krew’s Coat
of Sheer Empowerment is a sculptural figure of a standing woman bedecked in
a delectable coat of translucent, ornate fabric remnants. The work is more than
just a uniquely spectacular woman’s garment. Here’s a radiant celebration of impactful
personhood, inscribed with the embroidered shapes of written words, such as Believe,
Kind, Praise, Faith, Motivate, and Forgive. To read them, you need
to walk around the figure and let your eyes trace the flow of the fabrics as they
wrap their way up, down, and through the entire form. It’s not a matter of cursory
glances at bits of pretty patterns so much as a process of discovering an
empyreal wholeness. Like finding treasure.
Speaking of reading
and treasure, there’s Chad Troyer’s somewhat enigmatic tapestry and wood piece,
strangely titled Naame (Reputation). A woven banner of burlap-like
texture hangs in air, suspended from a wooden crossbar cut in the shape of a
yoke. Questions abound. Is this a memorial to, or a symbolic portrait of, someone
named Wally? Is/was Wally yoked to God? Look inside Wally’s name sewn (or could
we say… sowed?) into the tapestry – his implanted soul, if you will - and
see the tiny interwoven pieces of paper printed with Bible texts. The work reminded
me of the words of Jesus recorded in Matthew 11:29-30: “… Take my yoke upon
you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find
rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Making and looking
at art is often a matter of probing the metaphysical, and just as often raises
more questions than answers. So be it. Allow yourself this tired old conceit:
It’s always about the journey, not the destination. So feast your eyes, feed
your soul. Happy New Year and bon appétit!
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