Suite 217, Group Show Review: “Linda Francis, John O’Connor, Ken Weathersby”
Fueled with inquisitive energy, the paintings, drawings and sculptures in the group show Linda Francis, John O'Connor, Ken Weathersby fill the well-lit space of Suite 217 with a sense of wonder. The show as a whole engages the viewer with basic questions about the nature of reality, while each featured artist manifests a cohesive visual vocabulary. All three engage notions of materiality and perception, specifically the way we perceive complex information systems through patterns, categorization, construction and deconstruction.
Above photos by Etty Yaniv
Linda Francis states that for her, “art is philosophy,” but formal issues are far from negligible for this artist: She reflects on fundamental ideas such as the limits of knowledge and how we think, perceive or act, and explores “how that can look.” Indicating Tony Smith, with whom she studied at Hunter College, as her biggest influence, Francis’ fascination with science is consistent. A small photocopy depicting an electron-microscopic image of a failed NASA space shuttle component, sent to her by a friend sometime in the nineties, became a major source of inspiration in her work. It was not only its surface structure that intrigued her, but also her friend’s impression that the image resembled Francis' artwork. With this relationship between materiality and awareness in mind, she has been using the NASA image in mixed media forms that include painting, printing, digitization and drawing.
“We Can Build You,” 2013, photo courtesy Minus Space
oil on wood panel 38" x 95"
In her insightful essay, Michele Alpern notes that: “pattern recognition is both fugitive and precise.” In "Interference," the artist alludes to the failed component in diagonal rows of random, pixelated pattern. Akin to collage, the panels can be shown in different configurations, in this case, the placement of the square panel on the floor not only blurs the boundaries between painting and sculpture, but conveys Francis’ reflections on reality in a playful and affective way.
"Interference," 2013, photo courtesy Suite 217
Silkscreen on Dibond 70 3/4" x 70"
John O’Connor’s large-scale, labor intensive drawings unfold slowly. Juggling chaos and control, memory and loss, diagrams and organic forms, his images depict invented systems which are indecipherable, absurd and imperfect. With color schemes that resemble scrambled medical charts of brain functions, psychedelic patterns and pulsating rhythms, O’Connor’s amorphous shapes take a life of their own. His illogical universe is logical in a Lewis Carroll nonsense sensibility. If the viewer takes a longer, closer look, he or she may discover behind the precise shapes and cryptic symbols, the imperfection of a hand-made mark, an intensely personal quest, a persistent search for an underlying human element.
"Future Rods," 2011, acrylic on aluminum, 6' tall, 1" square, photo by Etty Yaniv
In SUSEJ, O’connor translated the first words of the Bible into colors based on chance. While the artwork lures the beholder into deciphering the logic behind such elaborate text-to color patterns, the complexity of the system makes it incomprehensible. Like a thrilling journey into uncharted territories, it is the viewing process itself that creates the meaning.
"SUSEJ," 2011, Colored pencil on graph paper, 43 inches x 25 inches courtesy the artist and Pierogi Gallery
Inspired by the eponymous computer scientist and his test of whether machines can think, "Turing"presents an elongated loop of linked textual data. The loop contains zigzagging colorful shapes that resonate a microscopic organism with dual personality. O’Connor explains that he was exploring the idea of “a human acting as a computer, trying to fake the computer into thinking it was talking to one of its own.” The end result of this experimentation promotes multiple open possibilities.
"Turing," 2010, Colored pencil and graphite on paper, 78 x 50 inches courtesy the artist and Pierogi Gallery
Ken Weathersby is keen on ideas that make a statement, “something that seems like a contradiction or almost a joke,” he says. Drawing from a wide array of sources--fiction, graphic novels and film, as well as minimalist and abstract art by artists who have foregrounded the material nature of the painting as an object--Weathersby uses materials that are typically designated for painting, like canvas, wood, and paint in creating his whimsical objects. Although he always faces technical problems of construction, such as how to make the parts of the piece relate to each other, “how to attach a paint film to a divided surface seamlessly,” or “how to create space between layers of paint,” he emphasizes that the hardest part is the mental process of coming to terms with what idea he will use, develop and refine.
"197 (dccch)," 2012, acrylic & graphite, linen, wood,
25 x 15 inches, courtesy Pierogi Gallery
"198 (dc)," 2012 , acrylic & graphite, wood, glue,
30 x 24 inches, courtesy Pierogi Gallery
In the sculpture "194(Z)," a large grid of raw wood strips contains and partially obscures a traditional canvas gridded with small, dark acrylic squares. Energized by a rhythmic dialogue between wooden lines and painted patterns, the form-within-a-form stimulates a hide-and-seek game, which triggers mind bending reflections on perception. In particular, viewers question the relationship between figure and ground, supportive structure and display, materiality and image.
"194 (z)," 2012, acrylic & graphite on linen with wood, nails and linen,
73 x 36 inches, courtesy the artist
The show was collectively curated by Polina Barskaya, Alexander Kaluzhsky, Jesse Patrick Martin, Jason Reyen and Bryan Rogers, who also co-direct Suite 217 as an artist-run exhibition space. The challenge was figuring out how to balance the three artists’ work in the space and “in conversation with one another,” says Jesse Patrick Martin, who elaborates, “Linda's micro/macro blowups anchor the show with their Space-Odyssey slab matter-of-factness, while Ken's checkerboard lattice works quietly deconstruct in the corners. John's text works underscore the creeping OCD-ness of the show, as they puzzle words into meaning-amoebas that read like fever dream ramblings, and his centrally-anchored "Future Rods" dissect the room with their thin predictions.”