A Hearkening of Mythicals and Mysticals
Divine Union, by Kimberly Blankenship Devouring the Sun, by Crystal Robinson Eclipse from the Other Side of the Moon, by Tom Delameter Penumbra, by Tim Eakin You're Only Made of Moonlight, by Bella Feliciano Celestial Masquerade, by Carri Cleveland Lacuna, by Alaska Thompson
By Tom Wachunas
“The reappearance of the crescent moon after the new moon; the return of the Sun after a total eclipse, the rising of the Sun in the morning after its troublesome absence at night were noted by people around the world; these phenomena spoke to our ancestors of the possibility of surviving death. Up there in the skies was also a metaphor of immortality.” - Carl Sagan
EXHIBIT: UMBRA – a collective perspective / at PATINA
ARTS CENTRE, 324 Cleveland Avenue NW, Canton, Ohio / THROUGH APRIL 27, 2024 /
Gallery Hours: Final viewing on Saturday April 27, 5pm – 9pm
Featured Artists include Kat Francis, Peyton Hopp, and David
B. Martin, as well as work by Chris Cook, Erika Katherine, Sam Lilenfield, Zach
Finn, Tom Delamater, Tim Eakin, Bella Feliciano, Maizy Jade, Rylee Lovelace,
Melissa Goff, Dr. Demon, Carri Cleveland, Heidi Fawver, Monte Arreguin, Ben
Sandy, Tessa LeBaron, Kimberly Blankenship, Justin Randall, Chrystal Robinson,
Julianne Nipple, Alaska Thompson, Andy Tokarsky, Carri Cleveland, Kaley Weaver,
Madi Miller
Umbra (noun) – 1 (a): a conical shadow excluding
all light from a given source - specifically : the conical part of the shadow
of a celestial body excluding all light from the primary source. (b): the
central dark part of a sunspot. / 2: a
shaded area
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Where did I leave
off? My time and memory were temporarily…eclipsed… by events not of my making. Ahhh…
yes, in my April 15 post here, about that other eclipse on April 8, with
these closing thoughts: “…Art allows the events that befall us, whether
common or rare, whether of our own making or not, to be ever-present, well
beyond their time and place of origin.”
Once again, art has been ‘allowing’ - this
time at Patina Arts Centre. With sincere apologies for this literally
last-minute commentary, the current show ends today, on Saturday, April 27.
The total solar
eclipse we witnessed on April 8 reminded me of how often I’ve embraced the megacosm
as a grand, created allegory – the ultimate artwork - symbolizing an eternal
theatre production, or a dance, unfolding across the stage of infinity. Think
of our solar system as a small component of a cosmic dance/theatre troupe
numbering countless performers. In this scenario, our earth and moon are in
effect tiny dancers - a duet - constantly moving in and out of the spotlight we
call our sun. But as April 8 so powerfully demonstrated, what a spectacular and
mesmerizing pas de deux! Let me be so bold as to suggest that the
playwright/choreographer of this celestial performance is a singularly supernatural
being with limitless power.
It's certainly not a new idea. Many ancient peoples
theorized that the heavens were dwelling places of multiple spirits - deities and
demons - and their offspring, the planets and stars,
where the fates of us mere humans were written and carried out.
This marvelous
exhibit is a diverse, celebratory collection of illustrated insights, intuitions,
and fantasies, all at once mythical and mystical. Here the beatific and the beastly collide or
coalesce, passing from light into darkness, or darkness to light. From the
delightfully sparkling rhinestone rumination of Alaska Thompson’s Lacuna, to
the electrifying fusion of laughter and tears in Carri Cleveland’s Celestial
Masquerade; from the elegant balance and harmony of Kimberly Blankenship’s Divine
Union, to the devilish strangeness of Bella Feliciano’s You’re only made
of Moonlight; from the searing gaze of the turbulent sun flanked by icy
blue Zodiac critters in Tim Eakins’ Penumbra, to the eerie gray quiet of
Tom Delameter’s ghostly Eclipse from the Other Side of the Moon. And
there are more, many more.
The same Spirit who
staged the aforementioned, most perfect mixed-media performance artwork ever
conceived and unsurpassable in its sheer magnificence – namely The Universe –
left a piece, a spark, of himself in every human being. In those we perceive as
artists, we call that spark creativity, or inspiration. I sense
that the exhibitors here weren’t just making art only about an outer space
event so much as probing their own inner spaces. In the process, they
effectively invited us viewers to do the same.