[ad_1]
An exhibit like “Made in Colorado” is meant to be a celebration of the best art this state has to offer. Emmanuel Gallery, which produces the event every two years, invites regional artists to submit work, and then a guest juror decides which pieces to include in the show.
It’s a highly professional process and is executed with fairness and optimism. This year’s judge, for example, is Larry Ossei-Mensah, an internationally recognized curator with a distinguished resume that includes organizing a recent hit show featuring global superstar Amoako Boafo at the Denver Art Museum.
Partly because the juror has prestige and partly because they want to support their own community, local artists show up for the effort. Many of Colorado’s bigger names enter the competition, and they usually win, making this biennial the regional art world’s equivalent to baseball’s All-Star Game. It’s flashy in that way.
For exhibition visitors who venture deep onto the Auraria Campus in downtown Denver, where Emmanuel is housed in a historic church, the experience produces obvious rewards. They get a quick and economical opportunity to take in the artists who are defining the day here. This year, that includes people like Carlos Fresquez, Anna Kaye, Rian Kerrane, Trine Bumiller, Tony Ortega and others. I’ve written about all of them with admiration over the years.
Of course, a show like this has its limits as well, and they are telling about the world we live in today. In some ways, that benefits this show; in others, it distracts.
The three dozen objects in the exhibit are high-quality in many cases — go see it, I say. The work is colorful, the vibe is happy — but they have little in common except the fact that all of the artists are from here. There is no overarching thread other than geography to pull things together.
It’s not curated as much as it is neatly assembled. If you are an admirer of the way baseball is played and how art is made, then this gathering of fan favorites will live up to its promises. But it lacks an intellectual draw.
Maybe that’s more than you can reasonably ask from a celebration, and perhaps it’s impossible for a show like this to get to that point. Certainly, it is not Ossei-Mensah’s fault — a juror only gets to consider what is submitted. It’s an unworkable job.
Plus, the idea of what it means to be Coloradan is disappearing in the same way all regional identities are fading across the country. Driving the interstates, it is increasingly difficult to discern the personality of one city from the next. It’s all Home Depots and Targets and Costcos.
So many of us live on social media or the Internet, which has nothing close to the kind of state borders that might have served as effective parameters for an exhibition like this in the past. We don’t share common news sources (remember when TV news anchors were local celebrities?). We don’t even bump into each other so much at all those Targets and Costcos — we shop on Amazon from home. In a lot of ways, it’s a better world we live in, but it disconnects us.
There are some hints of a regional identity that bring this show together, if you look for them. There remains, among a few artists, a fascination with the West’s great outdoors, and they bring timely works. Anna Kaye’s charcoal drawing of a blue jay coming back to a forest that has been ravaged by wildfires is delicate and hopeful.
Same with Trine Bumiller’s oil painting of a fledgling bombweed shoot, recognized as one of the first plants to return after a burn. There are also insightful nature-related works from painters Robin Whatley and Erika Osborne.
On top of that, there are provocative pieces that seem to bring their own themes to the mix. One highlight: Nikki Pike’s “Hold Me,” which is suspended from the ceiling near the show’s entrance. She has taken a punching bag and covered it in a soft and furry white fabric and renamed it a “hugging bag.” It invites us to practice love, not violence, though it is also kind of funny.
Another one: Andrea Caretto’s “My Favorite Shirt,” an unsentimental exploration of motherhood where layers of bed clothes, handkerchiefs and shirts, collected over years of caregiving, are encased in a tower of concrete. They are evidence of a life lived, waiting to be excavated one day by an archeologist studying parenting at the beginning of the 21st century.
Where this show does get it right in defining who we are as Coloradans today is in its diversity of human contributors. The lineup of first and last names on the signage that accompanies each work indicates a group of artists whose backgrounds defy easy demographic categorization. They are a mix of ethnicities, genders and generations, and they present a world of subjects that cross lines of skin color, economic advantage, age and ability.
The downside to that: this show is a free-for-all. Don’t try to make sense of the arrangement, just enjoy it.
The upside: it is a marker of our great evolution as a community and, in that way, easily accomplishes “Made in Colorado’s” main goal of being first and foremost a celebration. You can just enjoy that, too.
“Made in Colorado” continues through Sept. 12 at Emmanuel Gallery on the Auraria Campus. It is free. Info: 303-315-7431 or emmanuelgallery.org.
[ad_2]
Source link