A temple for Particles
My work is escapism—both the act of painting and the result: the paintings themselves. My hope is that viewers will embrace the distraction as much as I do. Escapism often brings comfort and gratification, but in my work, disquiet appears as well. Each painting includes some indication that productive, maybe intelligent, beings have intervened. Sometimes, the evidence is explicit. Occasionally, it is a subtly placed clue. The beings are absent. Whether they have just stepped out, or whether they have been gone for some time is unknown. Their absence is a nod to decay and speaks to the beauty in the abandoned. It also serves as a reminder to return to the land of the living. The paintings are small and engage the viewer in an intimate link, like a secret is being divulged. Upon closer inspection, methods of fragmentation become visible. I think of the fragmentation as my “quantum impulse." It's the language I use to communicate. In my observations of the world, I often find massive complexity hidden within small details. Likewise, my paintings begin with a delicate ink line drawing that functions as both a skeletal and arterial system for the larger piece. When that form is complete, I return with small brushes and insert panels of pigment in the negative spaces. Some of the painted elements of color are so small that I imagine the process as similar to dropping gems into stone settings. This careful planning and execution yields a subtle but telltale surface texture. The environments in my work are inspired by a variety of subjects: ancient structures, natural phenomena, distant places, even scientific documentaries. In some cases, a small detail of my own surroundings is the instigator. Maybe it's a crack in the pavement, a piece of cheese, the singing of cicadas, or a bed of pine needles. A transmutation occurs once I've determined an image or event is special. I project a narrative within it. Then a blueprint of how the concept could be described in two dimensions is drafted. During these steps, I translate what I have seen in the world into textural fragments. Each work becomes an object that transcends its flat surface. They are fetish figures I massage and prod into their final forms. The result is a painting. And every painting is my offering of respite.
Amy Wright is a painter originally from St. Louis, Missouri. She graduated from Kansas City Art
Institute in 2004 with a bachelor's degree in painting, and she continues to reside in Kansas City,
Missouri. She has participated in group shows at the Paragraph Gallery and the Steeple of Light Art Gallery. Her paintings are populated with mysterious structures that occupy lands not-quite-terrestrial, made by unseen entities that are not quite human. These subjects reveal a search for the staggering beauty that can be found in the abandoned. The works are indicative of her reverence for decay, and the disquiet that often resides there. The delicate meditation of her renderings is an invitation to the viewer to respond in kind.
Opening Reception on Friday, November 7th, from 6:00-10:00pm
Closing Reception on Saturday, November 29th, from 7:00-11:00pm