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Works by Karen Barbour
KAREN BARBOUR'S GOUACHE -and-ink-on-paper drawings call up many possible associations – landscapes in sci-fi novels, certain electronica, and surrealist paintings come most immediately to mind – but any correlation is ultimately undone by the overall mood Barbour invokes. The work is felt rather than seen, absorbed more than analyzed. The paintings aren't moody so much as emotional. And beyond emotional, ineffable. Perhaps even spiritual. For some reason, I am reminded of the dystopian sci-fi novel We, by Yevgeny Zamyatin. The main protagonist, D-503, unexpectedly and unlawfully falls in love with I-330. Chaos in his ordered universe ensues. He is undone, and he has no way to understand, much less articulate, what he's feeling. His response is to try to eradicate his longing with rationality. Love's lawlessness is never so easily contained, though, and often it creates its own separate world, a world that might look like the one Barbour proposes. The recurring spires, pointillist moments, many moons and many suns, waterfalls and sunspots, swoops and blots, and jewel-like abstractions all collude and work with, among, and against each other. The shapes buttress each other then fall away, become conscious and then faint. There is a hopefulness to these semiplaces or quasi-landscapes that exist somewhere between the familiar and the defamiliarized. Almost all the work is left untitled, and two of the few that are titled, Island and Planet, are so alike that the titles could be transposed and we would be none the wiser. Which is what? Does it matter? Figurative details like limbs, lips ascending skyward, flights of birds, and rushes of butterflies hint at Barbour's background in children's book illustration. This background serves her facility at abstraction well: Even though there's no explicit narrative, one can be discerned just enough to keep you engaged. This is the Point Reyes-based artist's second solo exhibition at Jack Hanley. I look forward to further abstractions of more and other unknown places she has yet to travel to. Tues.-Sat., 11 a.m.-6 p.m., 389 Valencia, SF. (415) 522-1623, www.jackhanley.com. (Katie Kurtz) Email Katie Kurtz at katiejkurtz@gmail.com. |
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