What’s in a sign or a warning? What do we do with a symbol that points towards an approaching calamity? How will we make sense of our bodies in a world that is no longer hospitable to us?
These are some of the questions that come to mind when viewing the joint exhibition Portent by Ryn Wilson and Laura Velez. The exhibition, curated by Tom Walton, challenges us to imagine a future world built in the shadow of an unseen calamity and asks us to consider how our physical bodies relate to and survive in this altered landscape.
The figures in Velez’s paintings and Wilson’s photography are dressed in ways that both protect them from and make them deeply a part of these newly altered environments. Shrouded in different types of clothing and by extension different types of ritual, the figures in this show are allowed just enough space from our gaze to take on slightly mythical dimensions. Whether it is the soothsayer like status of Wilson’s cloaked women or the immaculate hazmatted figures in Velez’s paintings, we sense that the people in Portent are pointing us towards a future version of our own mythology. And even if these myths lead each artist’s work towards different places they overlap and echo each other in generative ways.
These are some of the questions that come to mind when viewing the joint exhibition Portent by Ryn Wilson and Laura Velez. The exhibition, curated by Tom Walton, challenges us to imagine a future world built in the shadow of an unseen calamity and asks us to consider how our physical bodies relate to and survive in this altered landscape.
The figures in Velez’s paintings and Wilson’s photography are dressed in ways that both protect them from and make them deeply a part of these newly altered environments. Shrouded in different types of clothing and by extension different types of ritual, the figures in this show are allowed just enough space from our gaze to take on slightly mythical dimensions. Whether it is the soothsayer like status of Wilson’s cloaked women or the immaculate hazmatted figures in Velez’s paintings, we sense that the people in Portent are pointing us towards a future version of our own mythology. And even if these myths lead each artist’s work towards different places they overlap and echo each other in generative ways.
Ryn Wilson, Oneiromancy, archival pigment print, 24” x 36”
Wilson’s work feels mystical in nature and her shrouded figures tap into a type of occult that is stuck somewhere between a primal future and the present moment. In Oneiromancy, three women shrouded in gorgeous maroon garments stand in front of sparse desert rocks with arms extended to their side as the wind blows their clothing in a seemingly grandeur way. We’re reminded of ancient fortune tellers or protectors of some deities as these figures each hold up brilliant yellow orbs. What do these orbs represent? A symbol in some religious iconography? The scales of justice? Our thoughts, spiraling upwards as we begin to ascribe lofty meaning to every detail, get pulled back to a concrete reality when we realize these orbs are actually pristine tennis balls. It’s not so much that Wilson is commenting on the role of sports in our society. But rather, her use of these everyday objects beg us to ask: what mundane objects that we encounter today will become ascribed with a spiritual meaning in the future stories we tell about our survival? This question feels unsettling while at the same time provides a creative roadmap to help us navigate our way through the murkiness of things that have not let come to pass.
Wilson’s work feels mystical in nature and her shrouded figures tap into a type of occult that is stuck somewhere between a primal future and the present moment. In Oneiromancy, three women shrouded in gorgeous maroon garments stand in front of sparse desert rocks with arms extended to their side as the wind blows their clothing in a seemingly grandeur way. We’re reminded of ancient fortune tellers or protectors of some deities as these figures each hold up brilliant yellow orbs. What do these orbs represent? A symbol in some religious iconography? The scales of justice? Our thoughts, spiraling upwards as we begin to ascribe lofty meaning to every detail, get pulled back to a concrete reality when we realize these orbs are actually pristine tennis balls. It’s not so much that Wilson is commenting on the role of sports in our society. But rather, her use of these everyday objects beg us to ask: what mundane objects that we encounter today will become ascribed with a spiritual meaning in the future stories we tell about our survival? This question feels unsettling while at the same time provides a creative roadmap to help us navigate our way through the murkiness of things that have not let come to pass.
Laura Velez, Pink Light, oil on canvas, 11” x 14”
Less ephemeral than Wilson’s, Velez’s figures are grounded in the severe protocol of sanitation and disinfection. Their survival is contingent on a type of extreme hygiene and habit that shields them from the contamination of a toxic, threatening world. Despite the dangers of this menacing future, these figures, dressed in the intricate reflective folds of their hazmat suites and protective gear, are painted in dazzling detail and loving technique. They become as much a part of their landscape as they are separate from it. In Pink Light, for example, a fully hazmatted figure is kneeled down, arms extended out of frame. Is she reaching for something? Has she fallen? Has there been a contamination in her suit? Her posture feels unnerving and yet we can’t help but cherish the way her protective gear becomes a beautiful transition from the hot pinks on the left of the canvas to the cold dark violets on the right. The environment dances across her forms in a grand and nuanced way. For Velez, the apocalypse may be coming, but that doesn't mean it won’t be a visual feast, too.
Less ephemeral than Wilson’s, Velez’s figures are grounded in the severe protocol of sanitation and disinfection. Their survival is contingent on a type of extreme hygiene and habit that shields them from the contamination of a toxic, threatening world. Despite the dangers of this menacing future, these figures, dressed in the intricate reflective folds of their hazmat suites and protective gear, are painted in dazzling detail and loving technique. They become as much a part of their landscape as they are separate from it. In Pink Light, for example, a fully hazmatted figure is kneeled down, arms extended out of frame. Is she reaching for something? Has she fallen? Has there been a contamination in her suit? Her posture feels unnerving and yet we can’t help but cherish the way her protective gear becomes a beautiful transition from the hot pinks on the left of the canvas to the cold dark violets on the right. The environment dances across her forms in a grand and nuanced way. For Velez, the apocalypse may be coming, but that doesn't mean it won’t be a visual feast, too.
Ryn Wilson, Sybil, archival pigment print, 16” x 24”
And here is where the work of Wilson and Velez meet in an interesting intersection: Both artists work in firmly held mediums, painting for Velez and photography for Wilson, and yet they each develop techniques that move them further away from their medium’s traditional aesthetic arenas and closer to each other.
Wilson’s work does not rely on the excessive props and special effects that some contemporary sci fi would lead us to believe is necessary in order to build a futuristic world. Her photos are all of real places and figures and fabrics assembled together to create a beautiful, oppressive, and barren world, a world that seems not hospitable to our present day excesses but livable enough to allow poets to walk the earth and lament what has been lost. In some way, Wilson is in kinship with old school, point and shoot documentary photography and yet, her images are assembled in a way to be bent, manipulated, and used to arrive at her own visual truth.
In Sybil, a circular mirror is placed on a barren ground and the blinding rays of a harsh sun reflect onto a darkly shrouded figure who catches the sun from both above and below. And yet the camera lens, struggling to balance the harsh contrast of the blinding sun and the dark figure, fails in its ability to convince us that these two things are part of the same space. The circular mirror feels more like it is floating above the grass than resting directly on it, and the sharp highlights spill off the mirror in a way that feels photoshopped. While other photos in this exhibition are collaged this one is not. And still, our eye does not trust this image to be simply a “straight” photograph. We keep looking for the seams that stitched this fib together and yet can find none. If Picasso believed that art was a lie that got us closer to the truth than Wilson’s work playfully offers the opposite hypothesis. Her photographed worlds feel assembled through sleight of hand tricks in much the same way a skilled painter would arrange her shapes.
And here is where the work of Wilson and Velez meet in an interesting intersection: Both artists work in firmly held mediums, painting for Velez and photography for Wilson, and yet they each develop techniques that move them further away from their medium’s traditional aesthetic arenas and closer to each other.
Wilson’s work does not rely on the excessive props and special effects that some contemporary sci fi would lead us to believe is necessary in order to build a futuristic world. Her photos are all of real places and figures and fabrics assembled together to create a beautiful, oppressive, and barren world, a world that seems not hospitable to our present day excesses but livable enough to allow poets to walk the earth and lament what has been lost. In some way, Wilson is in kinship with old school, point and shoot documentary photography and yet, her images are assembled in a way to be bent, manipulated, and used to arrive at her own visual truth.
In Sybil, a circular mirror is placed on a barren ground and the blinding rays of a harsh sun reflect onto a darkly shrouded figure who catches the sun from both above and below. And yet the camera lens, struggling to balance the harsh contrast of the blinding sun and the dark figure, fails in its ability to convince us that these two things are part of the same space. The circular mirror feels more like it is floating above the grass than resting directly on it, and the sharp highlights spill off the mirror in a way that feels photoshopped. While other photos in this exhibition are collaged this one is not. And still, our eye does not trust this image to be simply a “straight” photograph. We keep looking for the seams that stitched this fib together and yet can find none. If Picasso believed that art was a lie that got us closer to the truth than Wilson’s work playfully offers the opposite hypothesis. Her photographed worlds feel assembled through sleight of hand tricks in much the same way a skilled painter would arrange her shapes.
Laura Velez, Looking North, oil on linen, 16” x 18”
In Velez’s work, her painting technique moves away from loose expressive brush marks towards a sharp methodical photorealism. Yet her real talent lies in knowing when not to over render certain passages of her work. In Looking North, Velez switches back and forth between bringing forms into sharp focus and allowing our gaze room to breathe. For example, the right hand of the standing figure, while anatomically correct in its rendering, is very restrained in its depiction and for good reason. Quiet passages like this become supporting actors for the real star of the piece; the reflective highlights on the red hazmat suit and the bright reflective highlights on the thigh high water. This dazzling light is crafted with the confidence and formality of a well focused camera lens. Velez wants us to focus on the strangeness and sharpness of those dancing highlights and to imagine the wetness of the water against the rubbery reflective glare of the hazmat suit. In this deeply haptic painting, we feel a future world as much as we see it.
The world building in both Velez’s and Wilson’s work are by no means the same. But rather, they compliment each other in ways that speak towards our present anxiety over the future. Take the presence of the sunlight in both Sybil and Looking North: In Sybil the beams aggressively break out of the mirror’s frame in an almost violent manner. The sun in Wilson’s photography is hostile, direct, and relentless. It speaks to a less hospitable world that humans will continue to find themselves at odds within. By contrast, the cool highlights that dance off the water’s surface feel optimistic, joyful even in Looking North. Perhaps it’s the fact that the figure is emerging out of a warm darkness towards the cool light or perhaps it is the determined and sensitive expression on the man’s face. But somehow this world, while plagued with dangers and hardships, still offers us some agency.
And aren’t these two different worlds exactly what a good portent depicts? A harbinger can both point towards a calamity while also showing us the resolve and courage that arise in the wake of one. The future may not look bright in Portent. But it is still richly expansive with the possibility for profound storytelling and meaning. And perhaps that is the most we as a species can hope for.
Portent is on View at The Front Gallery through May 8th. It is curated by Tom Walton with works by Ryn Wilson and Laura Velez.
In Velez’s work, her painting technique moves away from loose expressive brush marks towards a sharp methodical photorealism. Yet her real talent lies in knowing when not to over render certain passages of her work. In Looking North, Velez switches back and forth between bringing forms into sharp focus and allowing our gaze room to breathe. For example, the right hand of the standing figure, while anatomically correct in its rendering, is very restrained in its depiction and for good reason. Quiet passages like this become supporting actors for the real star of the piece; the reflective highlights on the red hazmat suit and the bright reflective highlights on the thigh high water. This dazzling light is crafted with the confidence and formality of a well focused camera lens. Velez wants us to focus on the strangeness and sharpness of those dancing highlights and to imagine the wetness of the water against the rubbery reflective glare of the hazmat suit. In this deeply haptic painting, we feel a future world as much as we see it.
The world building in both Velez’s and Wilson’s work are by no means the same. But rather, they compliment each other in ways that speak towards our present anxiety over the future. Take the presence of the sunlight in both Sybil and Looking North: In Sybil the beams aggressively break out of the mirror’s frame in an almost violent manner. The sun in Wilson’s photography is hostile, direct, and relentless. It speaks to a less hospitable world that humans will continue to find themselves at odds within. By contrast, the cool highlights that dance off the water’s surface feel optimistic, joyful even in Looking North. Perhaps it’s the fact that the figure is emerging out of a warm darkness towards the cool light or perhaps it is the determined and sensitive expression on the man’s face. But somehow this world, while plagued with dangers and hardships, still offers us some agency.
And aren’t these two different worlds exactly what a good portent depicts? A harbinger can both point towards a calamity while also showing us the resolve and courage that arise in the wake of one. The future may not look bright in Portent. But it is still richly expansive with the possibility for profound storytelling and meaning. And perhaps that is the most we as a species can hope for.
Portent is on View at The Front Gallery through May 8th. It is curated by Tom Walton with works by Ryn Wilson and Laura Velez.
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