Seattle Pacific University Senior Art Show: Lexie Hoffman, Emily Lowenberg and Naomi Trego

This week, the SPAC Gallery showcased the work of graduating seniors Lexie Hoffman, Emily Lowenberg and Naomi Trego.  These senior shows serve as an opportunity for graduating artists from Seattle Pacific University to demonstrate the technical and conceptual development they’ve experienced during their four years of undergraduate education. The present senior show is the seventh in a series of nine.

As a whole, the current show is honest and vulnerable.  But as a showcase that aims to show the best work of the students, I felt that this show seemed incomplete and unrefined.

Upon entering the gallery, the first works one encounters are by Lexie Hoffman.  Hoffman’s installation is a visual consideration of the role of the auditory experience in the context of humanity.  In her exploration of unusual media like wood, old books and other three-dimensional materials, Hoffman generates a familiar, relatable sense of physicality. By combining elements that relate to the sense of hearing – i.e. pictures of ears, a wall piece reflecting different musical tones, actual music –  she creates a complete sensory experience for gallery visitors.  The most impressive components of Hoffman’s show are certainly her wood pieces.  Hoffman has created rich, earth-toned images by carving, burning and staining the wood with coffee, tea and wine.  These pieces have an air of familiarity while begging viewers to take a closer look at the detail in each.  It is disappointing, though, to see Hoffman’s  beautiful wood etchings juxtaposed with more poorly executed pieces, including pencil lines draw directly on the wall and an artist’s statement that, although insightful and well-written, lacks poignancy because of the way it is presented: handwritten and in pencil. Overall, Hoffman’s work shows brilliant craftsmanship and great promise.

Next in the gallery, one comes face-to-face with the work of Emily Lowenberg.  Lowenberg’s show incorporates video and a wide variety of other elements including old furniture, used communion cups, wine pumping through clear tubing and used shoes.  Although Lowenberg’s pieces show innovation and creativity, the show as a whole feels somewhat contrived, as if it has been forced into an explicitly Christian framework.  Lowenberg’s artist statement sheds little light on her intentions, and instead  explains why, as a Christian, she feels led to create art. And in fact, each of Lowenberg’s pieces are explicitly Christological.  The piece “Wailing Wall” has a beautiful aesthetic quality that is heightened in meaning through Lowenberg’s use of communion cups.  However, the title “Wailing Wall” is heavy-handed; it feels as if Lowenberg is not allowing the raw beauty of the piece speak for itself and is instead forcing the piece to shout “reconciliation and salvation.”  This forced quality, which emerges throughout the installation, gives the viewer the feeling that Lowenberg merely selected several pieces that reflected Christianity and put them together.  Though the concept of Christian redemption flows beautifully throughout the show, the pieces themselves lack aesthetic cohesion.

The final installation in the exhibition showcases the work of Naomi Trego.  For her show, Trego filled ten sketchbooks over the course of ten weeks, one per week.  She then installed the books on the wall and allowed visitors to have their way with the volumes.  Like that of the other artists in the exhibition, Trego’s work seems somewhat unpolished, but unlike the others, this lack of polish is to the point.  Trego shows the process that an artist works through and gives viewers a unique insight into the way she, as an artist, processes life day to day.  Trego was not aiming for a finished, refined product, but is instead trying to show the messiness and rawness of life as an artist.  She is successful in showing this.  What is particularly special about Trego’s show is the fact that visitors can interact with the work.  One can flip through all of the books, read Trego’s thoughts and touch everything.  As a result, Trego’s work connects with the audience and shows an honest vulnerability.

Though the work of these three artists is technically and conceptually quite unique, the show as a whole has a harmonious balance and cohesion.  Each of the artists used the gallery space well and experimented with the physicality of their installation pieces.  The show overall is particularly concept-heavy, and although this privileging of concept at times results in a lack of polished product and technical skill, the works are honest, and they successfully capture the personality of each artist.

Jessica Vanderpol’s Journey of Process

Last week, Jessica Vanderpol braved showing her illustration work to the Seattle Pacific University community. The SPAC Gallery took on a new look following the previous week’s exhibition by Lexie Hoffman, Naomi Trego and Emily Lowenberg, which had given the space a complex, organic, almost  wonderland-like quality. This week, Vanderpol opened up the Gallery, making it more airy and expansive through her artworks’ consistency in medium and size. Only the walls were utilized for display, as her illustrations rested side by side in an orderly and uniform presentation.

Accustomed to the earlier installations, I felt an immediate emptiness upon entering the gallery to view Vanderpol’s show.  In addition, Vanderpol’s unassuming use of color and frequently unfinished renderings gave me a sense of vacancy. But Vanderpol’s exhibition is not intended to be viewed as a true installation with strong spatial and sensory impact. Instead, she intends for her works to be analyzed in an individual, step-by-step way.

The viewer’s journey begins on the left of the entrance ramp with an introduction and artist’s statement emphasizing the importance of the imagination. The adjacent wall, which greets each new visitor to the gallery, begins Vanderpol’s journey of creativity as an illustrator. Each work demonstrates an important phase in completing an illustration. Beginning with the medium of graphite and continuing with ink, watercolor and acrylics, Vanderpol’s comic-book-like pages gradually come to life with color and solidity.

Vanderpol maintains a consistent emphasis on process. The palpable loneliness of each work on its blank white wall functions to brings the viewer in for a closer look. It emerges, then, that the simplicity of the installation is completely necessary in order to honor Vanderpol’s underlying intention to draw attention to method and process. Once the viewer is close enough to each work, the work “pops,” thanks to Vanderpol’s experimental use of varied approaches to visual storytelling. The exhibition is a story about making stories, and some of Vanderpol’s curatorial choices echo the storytelling strategies within her comic-book-like panels. For example, cut-out circles and larger-scale paintings are juxtaposed, drawing the viewer closer, and then closer in.

The last phase of Vanderpol’s journey, and the last wall in the exhibition,  is backed by a gray rectangle framing floating artworks. This gray rectangle fills the space with a solidifying essence. This last touch brings Vanderpol’s last works, which present a journey in space, into harmony with each other, creating a family of images. The rectangle also adds weight to the gallery, and drew me to it as if it had a strong gravitational pull.

Why weren’t similar expanses of gray employed in the rest of the gallery? The vacant feeling of the installation could have been avoided with this extra feature. Each set of works (which presents a new family of PG subject matter) could have been recognized as a family, so to speak, rather than as another step-by-step sequence of scientific observation.

Overall, Jessica Vanderpol has a real niche in the illustrative design spectrum. Her chances for a future in a gallery could be improved with attention to a more impactful means of presenting her work.

Lexie Hoffman, Emily Lowenberg & Naomi Trego

The rich scent of wine fills the gallery with an atmosphere of playful invitation. A sensory playground of investigative and contemplative artwork surrounds me.  Lexie Hoffman, Emily Lowenberg and Naomi Trego have created three bodies of work that enter into a dialogue of the senses in a manner that brings new light to the individual pieces.

Lexie Hoffman presents work of a multi-faceted nature that explores intersections and translations of sensory experiences. She investigates the science of sound and our systematized solutions to the incapacitation of the senses, using Braille and sign language as her muse.  Her work glows in contemplative quietude and reveals a kind of secret vitality from within its abundant metaphors.

Several square panels of raw wood variously featured Braille code and both representational and abstract illustrations relating to the ear and the sensation of hearing. The imagery is burned into the wood and washed over with stains of coffee, tea and wine. These panels take on a corporeal presence, like scarred flesh relaying a memory, a marker of paralyzed perception.

Beeswax and q-tips appear in a number of Hoffman’s pieces. They make metaphorical reference to deafness—the wax being a kind of barrier in the ear. In two different instances, the q-tips are used to create Braille. With this, Hoffman unites the notions of blindness and deafness. The wax speaks with intriguing duality, for wax is at once representative of a barrier and a passageway. In some ancient cultures, Bees were believed to be a bridge between the physical world and the underworld. Thus, the idea of beeswax as earwax relays an interesting idea, suggesting that the incapacitated physical senses in fact provide a kind of opportunity for heightened accessibility to the spiritual. In ancient Greece, the occurrence of a bee landing on the lips of a newborn was believed to be a heavenly blessing of eloquence. So our ideas of eloquence, conversation and insight are subject to challenge. This kind of complexity present in Hoffman’s work lends itself to deep reflection on the inevitable limitations of our empirical experiences.

I found myself slightly lost among the collection of objects displayed on an old, wooden ironing board. Arranged on the board were some leaves, a few dozen q-tips dipped in yellow beeswax and a stack of old books. These objects appeared as incomplete thoughts that fell short of delivering the same power as the work on the wall, yet they seemed to contain the seeds of an important idea. On the whole, the display read as slightly arbitrary and disparate.

Hoffman’s work inspires rich contemplation of the intricate physics and physiological processes involved in our sensory experiences. Her work is abundant with metaphors and subtleties that lead to meditation not just on the physical nature of sensory perception and communication, but also on broader notions of conversation and communion.

Emily Lowenberg translates the divine and spiritual into physical objects that prompt curiosity and exploration. Her altered desk is certainly the most captivating piece within her body of work. The near-magical desk has been altered to feature secret drawers and panels. It yields wonder and surprise, as the viewer is encouraged to open up the compartments and discover small treasures of glass jars of water, a pool of black ink, white yarn, soil, plants, and cedar. It is a treasure chest of abundant textures, colors, and scents each with metaphorical significance.

This plethora of sensory delights seems to act as a language to illuminate the nature of something spiritual. The element of smell cannot not go unnoticed in Lowenberg’s work. The strong aromas of wine, cedar and soil speak to the  invisible yet undeniable nature of Divine presence. The multisensory approach suggests that the nature of God is perhaps ultimately found in the negative spaces of our empirical perception. The desk evades overt and clichéd references to religion yet subtly speaks to the rewards of faith and the unpredictable nature of the Holy Spirit.

Lowenberg’s other pieces are also deeply spiritual, addressing prayer and communion with Christ. One wall featured a series of plexiglass panels, adhered on the backs of which are dozens of transparent communion cups. The residue of wine adds a subtle tone to the piece and creates lively, ethereal shadows on the wall behind it. This piece, entitled Wailing Wall, recalls a stained glass window. If there is an attempt to evoke a transcendent experience, however, it is hindered by the piece’s underwhelming scale.

At times, Lowenberg’s religious themes feel too overt and ineffective. This is partially due to the literal nature of the titles that are displayed by each piece. At other times, however, she successfully creates an opportunity for a transcendent experience. Her work points to a rich inner life intent on manifesting a curious and thought-provoking experience for the viewer rather than relaying dogmatic opinions or sentimental expressions.

Along the back wall of the gallery are ten sketchbooks, nailed open to the wall so that they fan wide to reveal their contents. Naomi Trego filled these books over a period of ten weeks in an attempt to integrate art more fully into her life and cultivate creativity and inspiration. The result was an exhaustive record of daily observations and immersions.

            Trego filled her books with sketches of anything and everything in front of her: notes on circumstances, ideas, loose artifacts of daily activities and spontaneous creativity and experiments with different media. The pages feature both abstract and observational watercolor sketches, ink drawings and prints. Trego’s work is not only about process—it is process. The end product is beside the point. However, the content of these sketchbooks does not seem to reach any sort of apex. There is no detectable underlying growth or change throughout her visual timeline.

In the center of the gallery is a sculptural piece made up of Trego’s life’s collection of sketchbooks. The books are arranged organically into a series of cylindrical forms of varying sizes. Some are fanned open with pages elaborately folded inward at different angles, which changes the shapes of the books dramatically. The sculpture seems to exude a singularly musical quality. Upon walking around the installation, the circular patterns evoke a floating melody that rises and falls rhythmically with the height of the stacked books, resting occasionally on a book folded open to reveal a single page.

This amassing of pages and pages of illustrations and notes speaks of a ritualistic method of cultivating inspiration. Slightly obsessive, devoted and disciplined, Trego has demonstrated a kind of integrity and passion reminiscent of a dedicated monk who tends daily to his sacraments and meditations in faith that they will yield something beautifully transcendent. In this case, making art is a means of arriving at inspiration for further art. This concept is visually reflected in the use of old sketchbooks to build sculptures. Trego’s mantra, as she writes in her statement, is to simply produce- whether or not the inspiration is there. Her sketchbooks certainly inspire the viewer with a call to heightened awareness, disciplined productivity, and greater creative output.

Melissa Ergo

Biomorphism Gets a Makeover and It’s Pretty: Moriah’s and Melissa’s Senior Shows

Soft. Ethereal. Subtly captivating.

Each of these words could be used to describe last week’s exhibition at SPAC Gallery in Seattle, WA. Through the use of decidedly delicate and subtly abstract biomorphic forms, artists Melissa Ergo and Moriah Westrick create a world of interpretive intrigue – Westrick through the use of black, white, and yellow resin pieces and layered drawings, and Ergo through photographs and drawings (executed both on paper as well as directly on the wall) of sensuously twisted rope.

There is a definite sense of harmony between Ergo and Westrick’s respective works, but of the two artists, it’s Ergo’s work that really shines in the exhibition. While Westrick’s work weaves a linear story with a definitive starting and ending point, Ergo’s pieces throw the viewer into a realm of deep confusion and leave the viewer struggling to find meaning behind a twisted and manipulated rope. We see it in various forms – in large drawings, photographs on silk fabric, wall drawings, and photo proofs – yet the purpose remains elusive. There are myriad interpretations to be sure, and Ergo doesn’t hint at what her particular interpretation might be, but instead lets her audience draw from them whatever they will. There is beauty and appeal in the unknown, and through her photographs and drawings, Ergo creates an atmosphere of aesthetically pleasing obscurity.

The real beauty of Westrick’s work lies in a world of shadows. While the resin pieces themselves are beautifully executed and praiseworthy in their own right, the projections beyond the works are where the true beauty of Westrick’s art lies. The concept behind Westrick’s work is inspired by a form of bacteria that leads to the contamination of drinking water in third world countries. While this subject matter is evident in the pieces themselves, the message is driven home through the shadows. We are reminded that this is an ongoing problem – that this bacteria grows at a rate that is difficult to control. And through the anterior projections of the resin, we are drawn into a cyclical and ongoing (albeit beautiful) crisis.  The only disappointment to be found in Westrick’s work is in her drawings. While they are interesting subjects in their own right, the forced, literal interpretation of strains of bacteria falls flat against the more organic world of resin and shadows.

All in all, Ergo’s and Westrick’s pieces are pleasing to the eye and help to change the sense of awareness of the viewer – two qualities essential to successful art. The only downfall of the show could be the lack of variety. Both Ergo and Westrick show that they are very good at representing their chosen subject matters, but the lack of variation is slightly (and only slightly) disappointing.  While each of their pieces are certainly cohesive, the variations between each work is almost too subtle. It leaves the viewer wanting more.

Give us more.

Please.

-Katie Whorrall

Moriah Westrick and Melissa Ergo

Upon my entrance to the Seattle Pacific Art Gallery to view the work of Moriah Westrick and Melissa Ergo, I encountered a cloud of abstractions that created an overall sense of uncertainty.  Both artists, post-minimalist in technique and highly conceptual in their approach, consider ambiguity their muse.   Appropriately, since Moriah is inspired by “a parasite that infects people,” both shows generate an “infectious wonder.” However, upon closer inspection, some of the works may not be as noble as they aim to be.  Despite my sense of ambivalence, I found Melissa’s and Moriah’s show to be a clean and thoughtful compilation of highly personal glimpses into their worlds as artists.

Moriah’s work is undeniably unique and well-conceptualized.  Utilizing both glass and paint, she provides the viewer with a snapshot of what we learn to read as a “parasitic” infestation that takes the viewer back to biology class.  We find ourselves inspecting a community of microbes unbeknownst to our eyes, displayed as if on a Petri dish under a microscope.  Visually, the work holds value from a distance and unites the viewer in the wispy turbulence embodied on these small-scale glass panels.

As pictured in the image below, Moriah’s work has a Pollock-like freedom.  The lines and splatters dance on top of the clear surfaces, all the colors and shapes flowing together dynamically.  With elegance, and to my eyes, ease, Moriah “peels back the intricacies of life, layer by layer, only to find that there is more for (her) to devour, to seek, to expose.”  Her artist’s statement genuinely claims that it is these microbes, these invisible creatures, that invade the human experience, bringing meaning and wonder to a life that is complex and intricate.  Her work reminds the viewer that we live in a world that is “confrontational, savage, and filled with sorrow…but resilient, wondrous, and filled with beauty.”

After examining the glass panels, I wandered over to Moriah’s body of drawings, which I assumed function as a closer, more technical look into this parasite’s lifecycle.  These drawings, as shown below, depict the more concrete nature of cells in their microscopic worlds.   Though I do appreciate Moriah’s desire to give the body of work a supplemental element, I did not feel as though these examinations spoke as strongly as her panels; unfortunately, they did not contribute as powerfully to the overall holistic vision of the show.

Melissa’s work is striking and also puzzling.  Incorporating many different media, including photography on canvas and pencil on paper, Melissa’s installation shows the artist’s interest in an overall sense of ambiguity in the world. Twisted and knotted hair is Melissa’s subject. These knots are unified and repeated and yet remain individually unique. While the structure of these hair knots proves to be an abstract entity by nature, I could not help but ask myself if these forms really do tell a story for the viewer.

The largest drawing of the twisted lock of hair (pictured below) is wildly successful, as it reads strong far away and close up.  Upon approaching this drawing, one will notice that Melissa follows through in displaying her work as a “meditative” process. Each line is drawn meticulously.  Following the lines and curves, the viewer desires to make up something recognizable of the form.  We are left to relate this abstraction of hair to our personal experiences and understandings.  Whatever the final end or meaning of the work might be, the drawing takes us into a visual space that is evocative and meaningful.  The smaller drawings, (also pictured below) maintain this perfection of line, curve and sense of depth.  I highly enjoyed the drawings, as they truly displayed Melissa’s technical skill as an artist, and they invited me into a place of wonder.

Aside from the drawings, the photography on textured materials (pictured below) was unique and creative, but unfortunately it did not hold up against the beautiful drawings.  These smaller photographs were interesting from a close view, but from a distance, they were indistinguishable from one another.  Melissa acknowledges that she is “interested in grey areas, those moments of ambiguity…” and she identifies with the fact that there may be a “multitude of interpretations and insights” regarding her work.  Unfortunately, for me, the drawings evoked incredible insight and meaning but the photographs did not.

The work of Moriah Westrick and Melissa Ergo creates a sense of mystery and wonder.  Both artists made it quite clear that they want the viewer to leave with more questions than answers.  The body of work as a whole was interesting and provided genuine insight into the lives of these artists as they grapple with  mysterious questions themselves.

Kimmy Tabb

Senior Show: Rani, Ben and Hannah

Three young artists anxiously await an audience to behold and hopefully admire their artwork on display through Friday at the Seattle Pacific University Art Center.  I ascend the ramp to take a closer look at the first group of paintings created by the artist Rani Ban; these are arranged on a prominent wall in the small gallery.  I find myself distracted from my original destination by a flutter of paper, and it is then I notice out of the corner of my eye what I feel to be the highlight of the whole exhibition.  There, on the adjacent wall, are a series of vellum drawings fashioned by Rani, strung simply on a piece of household twine.  The black ink drawings are layered with detail.  From the delicacy of the fine paper to the accents of stitched thread emphasizing different features, these collage-like compositions captivate my attention.  I infer old, frail, long lost memories captured.  This display alone is well worth the trip and the price is right.  Admission is free, making for the perfect night out in this struggling economy.

I quickly realize that I am the cause of a human traffic jam in this tight space, and I am forced to move on to encounter the next of the three artists’ installations.  Wait, is this bank of ancient manual typewriters the next exhibit?  Nooooo, it seems this interruption in the show is a means for the visitor to express their impression of the various artists’ works.  Hmmm, perhaps this clever input method might be better placed after I have seen all the works!

My eyes scan to the next cluster of paintings nearby, which are composed of acrylic paints on wood.  The bold colors and the dramatic, black shadowbox frames command my attention. Void-like backgrounds and black trees create an ominous feeling, providing a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of the paintings’ subjects, bringing the characters of Rowe’s stories into sharp focus. The crisp forms are appealing to the eye.  As entertaining as the dream-like caricatures presented in each individual piece are, I struggle to discover some sort of meaning in this work by Ben Rowe.  It was upon reading the artist’s intent that I found deeper understanding; I actually found his mastery of words more impressive than his mastery of the paintbrush.  Ben reminds us of the circle of life:   although we consume the things we encounter for sustenance, upon our death, we return to the earth and are in turn consumed.  The artist’s statement provides a basic but rational summation of our existence, but it does little to explain the specific contents of the paintings.

The final collection by Hannah Pietila appears at first glance to be quite simplistic in composition and a bit too eclectic in arrangement.  Artworks in several media are present, including: a video production, an audio feature that requires an investment of time on the viewer’s part to manipulate, a row of embroidered portraits and symbols mounted in embroidery hoops and some large, hanging, rudimentary rag dolls.  One wonders where to begin, and one might be easily distracted by the variety of the collection.  What captures our attention is the row of stitched portraits of aged relatives that draws us in not only because of the portraits’ size, but also because of the clever, haphazard patterns sewn with colorful, large stitches.  The stitching forms characters with distinct personality and a certain old-world charm.  We are able to imagine the artist lovingly crafting these images to convey a treasured relationship from her past.

This art exhibition could benefit from a more logical order, beginning our visit with Hannah’s images of the elderly approaching passage from this life to the next; we could then encounter Rani’s “scrapbook” of memories reflecting on lives forgotten in time; and we could end with Ben’s view of life regenerating itself through death, purpose and ultimately renewal.  Finally, at the end of our tour we could approach the typewriters, waiting to record comments on our experience with each artist’s work.   In sum, although the overall theme seems to get lost in the random arrangement of the artworks, for the most part, the sentiment and profundity of the pieces themselves succeed in making one reflect on the lives of those who have gone before us and their ongoing contributions to our existence.  The works prevail over our restlessness and linger, prodding us to reflect on our own history and the imprint we might leave behind – a worthy outcome.

Jane Leverkuhn

Evan Adams: Senior Studio Show

In our postmodern art landscape, we are so accustomed to irony that sometimes a dose of concentrated sincerity can be shocking to our sensibilities. That sincerity is a blood (occasionally near-literal) pulsing through the work of oil painter Evan Adams, whose senior show is currently up at the Seattle Pacific Art Gallery. Adams’ colorful pieces attempt to capture “the utmost of human experience… beyond visual perception.” Between his artist’s statement, the poetry mounted on the walls, and the unrelenting vibrancy of color and motion, the emotionalism of Adams’ show is unapologetic, and as such occasionally falls flat or becomes saccharine. But when Adams is doing what he does best, his pieces have an ethereal beauty and a truly moving quality.

The first thing to strike the viewer about the show is color—each piece is soaked with bright hues, one on top of the other, swirling and moving in sync (and sometimes not in sync). The colors are, for the most part, bright, fresh and saturated, though Adams also likes to work with some blacks and pastels for contrast. The scope varies with the canvas size—his larger pieces reach for a broad spectrum, while his smaller ones are often case studies with just one or two hues. An abstract expressionist at heart, Adams seeks to organize colors in order to take the viewer into a spiritual space. The pieces that best accomplish this are his larger, more fluid pieces, with long, meditative brushstrokes. In the left corner of the gallery is his most successful work, “In the Beginning.” Turquoise, lavender, soft orange and bright pink cascade down the canvas, recalling water and air—the “breath of life.” Its diagonal motion, both ascendant and swirling at once, is transporting, and an example of the moving power of pure color. A violet-themed piece on the opposite wall, “Purple Haze,” is similar in its uniform vision and marriage of color to motion. Both of these pieces reveal Adams’ sense of color harmony and visual beauty.

There is a conscious sense of the physicality of the paint, slathered on thick with dramatic brushstrokes. Though in most cases the color is the content, the brushstrokes go a long way toward determining the success of the pieces. The most gorgeous paintings display a smooth, wet-into-wet technique that creates a silky, dreamy quality, visible in several of the works, perhaps half. Others have an intriguing, feathery feel. But Adams’ colorful sense of wonder gets obscured when the brushstrokes become blunt and thick, especially in the smaller pieces; when this happens, the paintings take on a finger-paint quality that reads more as a study than as a completed work.

Moving outside of these color-studies, Adams’ work becomes more ambitious, with large canvases expressing themes of redemption—two with tree-like subjects and swirling rainbow colors, and one expressing the passion of the Christ. All have a beautiful sense of color, but there is a nagging sense that the forms in the pieces are not as well rendered as they could be which distracts from the overall impression. Adams excels in creating emotion out of pure color and movement, and any move into more representative work finds him faltering slightly. His Christ has the potential to be riveting, but I couldn’t help wondering if it might have been more effective with even more abstraction—perhaps we didn’t need to see his face.

In the front of the gallery, Adams has a “cave” of mirrors of sorts set up for the viewer to step into, each mirror splashed with a bright color. This piece seems to exemplify what he wants viewers to take away from the experience. Adams wants each person who steps into the gallery to have a highly personal experience—to see the colors and see themselves, to go to a spiritual place with the help of the images. If Adams continues to play with the beautiful harmonies of color that he has begun to explore, he is sure to move many.

Lauren Wilford