As the date in the title indicates–this post was written over 2 weeks ago but I was unable to obtain Lindsey Mear’s permission to use pictures of her work until today. I believe however, the show runs another 3 days so please try to go by and check out some amazing and beautiful art. Thanks, Orion
I love wandering the McGuffey–I love the physical environment and I love the beautiful people that create there.
I love the relentless magic of changes in this place—big and small. In the “small” department: a potter for example, might have a new run of beautifully proportioned vases waiting on a cooling rack that have not been glazed—exquisite in their unrealized potential and indifference to the moment. But this day I am here for a big change—I am here to enjoy Lindsey Mear’s new show “Winter Into Spring”–an exhibit of books and mixed media (www.lindseymears.com).
Before I talk about that it’s only fair to mention there are other new exhibits at McGuffey. You can go to the McGuffey website at www.mcguffeyartcenter.com for more info but briefly other exhibits are: “Gathered Up”, jewelry and enamels by Kristina Glick. “Indian Territory”, new acrylic paintings on canvas by Gloria Mitchell and The Annual McGuffey High School Art Show–selected works by local high school students. Shows run March 2 through March 28, 2010.
The large main gallery (on the main floor) where Lindsey’s show is mounted is positively levitated by the collective magic of these shimmering works of fantasy and light. Take an imaginary tour with me now.
Walking in we see on this wall to our left, constructions of found and modified materials such as an anodized raven’s skull immortalized as part of a plaque that (to me) commemorates the never-ending twilight of eternity and the joy of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich on a lemonade afternoon.
On that wall in front of us you will note an oblivion-resurrected mirror—crinkled, faded, darkened and vanishing into itself even as it clings half-heartedly to time—hanging over a peasant-painted dresser implicitly festooned and textured with idle moments and forgotten memories.
Over here on this wall we see, in a simple frame surrounding a velvet field, a Chrysanthemum concerto of ordinary buttons frozen in an assertive mélange of little girl smiles and grandmotherly love.
Nearby an Escheresque concentric checkerboard background proudly radiates from a coin-style profile with brain-space metaphored by an antique, brooch-stone setting from which dangles a wire tethering a clear light bulb. This poses the rhetorical question—has the provincial light of ancestral understanding fallen from our collective awareness so that it must be preserved from crashing at our collective feet by a connection established by an artist?
There is more—much more—too much to be absorbed in one visit–even a careful, thoughtful visit.
You must go and see and absorb then go away then come back—again & again as I did—several times in the course of an afternoon. And in so doing you may take away with you a bit of the fairy-tale expectancy and sunny-day communion we knew as children scrambling out of bed on a blue-sky Saturday morning.
I met artists of good-nature and all-around good guys, Douglas and Brad. And since I found them in a dance studio and they said they taught dance I think it’s fair to assume they’re dance instructors.
Brad and Doug were kind enough to allow an aging, itinerant photographer and seeker of unseen moments to photograph them, their studio and the wonderful assemblage of objects and materials that time and circumstance and human endeavor have brought together to celebrate happenstance and their best efforts at making the world a less darksome place.
Nancy Galloway was busy taking many of her beautiful paintings out of their frames in anticipation of transportation to a new show. A sweet, gifted lady, generous with her precious time and devoid of pretense or self-importance, Nancy was kind enough to pose before several of her painted creations and allow this photographer the opportunity to do his own creative thing and capture an image of a talented bringer-of-light-to-mankind.
Anne Cheeks—herself a beautiful example of The Creator’s art—sold the large picture of crashing ocean waves I photographed her in front of the first time we spoke last year. A majestic series of rolling and crashing wave canvases nearly cover one wall of her studio and every time I see her she reminds me again she can teach me to draw. I spot on a window sill, two whimsical papier-mâché and wire figures—I see them as two adolescent girls caught in a moment of Joie de vivre. I photograph them and call the image, “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.”