You enter the exhibition to a film playing on a loop that feels very much like the show’s thesis. The artist stands almost God-like above Atlanta; open skies are the only thing that towers him, except for the occasional scarf or mirror he adorns himself with, as the wind and sun work through the respective objects. There is a sentiment of grandness and sober joy, reveling in his beloved city below him. Alston’s higher self spliced with moments toiling away in a moody studio, sipping from a pitcher, now aware of his subjectivity. Again his vision is interrupted by chants of frustrated and exasperated citizens from 2020’s Black Lives Matter protest from Downtown Atlanta.
Clustered with vignettes of installations, personal moments and extensions of previous works have evolved into shrines and studies that express the artist’s sentiments on historical and private events over the last 25 years. Senseless deaths are placed in Memorium with flowers and reflective papers, honoring the spirits of those no longer with us. Skittles are piled and encased and then reimaged as office dots that mask identities in black and white photographs. What piques my interest most is how Alston incorporates the presence of Atlanta, particularly allusions to the 1996 Olympic games. Arguably this was the tipping point that shifted Atlanta from a big town of the south to a major American city with global notability. Moving through space is an arrangement of mixed media sculptures, vaguely forming a triptych, that impresses on the viewer the Atlanta skyline in its linear formation. One suspended sculpture resembles a giant pencil, covered in an aged, yellowing hole punched receipt paper, shingled in long layers, mimics the doily laying on the floor just in your peripheral vision. Anyone who has lived in Atlanta for any amount of time can’t help but draw a comparison to the Bank of America building that also shares the same silhouette with Alston’s own.
Davion Alston’s exhibition “Another Bird of Paradise” is an exercise in continual process and dialogue with the artist and his materials and environment. Alston’s work feels ongoing as a creative, with sometimes literal threads that tie and navigate you through the past, present, and future work. This curated body of work for MOCA GA feels like a love letter to things that are lost–physically, emotionally, spiritually around Atlanta. There is a sense of fatigue from time, but more importantly, there is an understanding that time heals all wounds, and we should allow love to steward us all through those moments of weariness.