Lindsay Costello

Lindsay Costello is an experimental artist and writer in Portland, Oregon, with an academic background in textile research at the Oregon College of Art and Craft. Her critical writing can also be read at Hyperallergic, Art Papers, Art Practical, 60 Inch Center, this is tomorrow, and Textile: Cloth and Culture, among other places. She is the founder of plant poetics, an herbalism project, and soft surface, a digital poetry journal/residency. She is the co-founder of Critical Viewing, an aggregate of art community happenings in the Pacific NorthwestHer artistic practice centers magic, ecology, and folkways in social practice, writing, sculpture, and installation.

 

Balancing Acts: Dawn Cerny at Melanie Flood Projects

The artist’s tabletop mobiles and gouache paintings of faces in tears pair together to explore the tensions of human experience.

I recently learned that tightrope walkers are also called funambulists. The word derives from the Latin funis (meaning rope) and ambulare (meaning to walk), but funambulist also conjures up a sense of, well, fun: excitement, daring, a sense of the unknown. The practice dates back to Ancient Greece and is still practiced today. Feats of poise and tension have sparked our interest for a long, long time.

Mobiles can be childlike and gentle, or precarious and uncertain. They’re a bit like miniature versions of a tightrope act—it’s thrilling to watch an object, wobbly and fragile, learn to balance. There’s suspense in suspension. This tension is constant in our lives; we are all learning to balance, endlessly. Dawn Cerny investigates the tensions of everyday life in her solo exhibition, Weeping Willow Folding Chair at Melanie Flood Projects. The eight brightly-colored tabletop mobiles and six gouache paintings use comedy and vulnerability to untangle emotional experiences. Cerny’s knack for construction and her offbeat visual sensibility merge in an exhibition that’s subtly relatable and uniquely human. 

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VizArts Monthly: New openings and moments of nostalgia

June's art openings offer the perfect opportunity to take your newly-vaccinated self out into the world and see some art.

A shift is in the air. Summer is just around the corner, and an ever-increasing number of vaccinated Oregonians are beginning to venture outside more often. This month, many art happenings reflect this slow change. The Oregon Jewish Museum and Yale Union are both reopening with new (and, in Yale Union’s case, final) exhibitions. 1122 Gallery has reopened and rebranded as 1122 Outside. Other art spaces, like Ampersand Gallery, look backward, prompting reflection on 2020 by featuring works created during isolation. There are still virtual art-viewing opportunities and panel discussions for homebodies, too—check out the options at Blue Sky Gallery and more below!

Work by Howard Fonda, image courtesy Ampersand Gallery
Work by Morgan Rosskopf, image courtesy Well Well Projects

Color Burn
June 5 – 27, 2021
Well Well Projects
8371 N Interstate Ave, #1 (Sat-Sun 12 PM – 5 PM)

In this two-person exhibition, mixed-media artists Morgan Rosskopf and Manu Torres spin together fine art and floral design to create an aesthetic experience of opulence, maximalism, and defiant beauty. Using a combination of high brow and low brow materials—Rosskopf works primarily with paper collage, while Torres uses artificial and natural flowers—both artists abandon convention, restraint, and subtlety. Color Burn promises to cultivate a layered, textural, and celebratory sense of visual density.

Marianne Nicolson: A Feast of Light and Shadows
June 30 – August 29, 2021
Yale Union
800 SE 10th Ave (Weds-Thurs 4 PM – 8 PM, Fri-Sun 2 PM – 6 PM)

In Yale Union’s final programming before the transfer of building ownership to the Native Arts and Cultures Foundation, artist Marianne Nicolson will build a site-specific installation by utilizing the abundant natural light in the Yale Union gallery to produce a “ceremonial feast of light and shadows.” Nicolson is an artist-activist of the Musgamakw Dzawada’enuxw First Nations, part of the Kwakwaka’wakw (Kwak’wala speaking peoples) of the Pacific Northwest Coast. This is her first solo exhibition in Portland.

Lawrence Halprin
June 23 – September 26, 2021
Oregon Jewish Museum and Center for Holocaust Education
724 NW Davis St (reopening for summer, Weds-Sat 11 AM – 4 PM)

Over the course of Lawrence Halprin’s sixty-year career, he brought innovative ideas to urban design and sparked a shift in landscape architecture throughout the United States. This exhibition delves deeply into Portland’s mid-century Open Space Sequence, which, under Halprin’s direction reinvented public space but also replaced a thriving Jewish immigrant community with fountain plazas and urban greenspaces. Starting in July, as part of the Architectural Heritage Center’s Walking Tours programming, they’ll offer tours of a neighborhood in South Portland that was once home to the majority of the city’s Jewish community. (The neighborhood now features Halprin-designed fountains.) The Architectural Heritage Center will also present a companion exhibition, South Portland and the Long Shadow of Urban Renewal, which “examines the rise, fall, redevelopment, and future of South Portland.”

Work by Howard Fonda, image courtesy Ampersand Gallery

Howard Fonda: Quand la cage est faite, l’oiseau s’envole
May 15 – June 20, 2021
Ampersand Gallery and Fine Books
2916 NE Alberta Street, Suite B (Fri – Sun 11 AM – 4 PM or by appointment; limited entry, masks and distancing required)

Howard Fonda’s newest painting series, Quand la cage est faite, l’oiseau s’envole (translating to “When the cage is made, the bird flies away”) is nostalgic, inspired by natural areas the artist has visited. During times of confinement in 2020, Fonda began this series of landscapes and bird imagery based on a combination of far-off and more recent memories. The results feel characteristically Fonda: dreamlike and contemplative, but comforting, too. Fonda’s small studies of birds celebrate the Pacific Northwest’s abundant varieties of birds and reflect on fleeting, fluttering moments with these creatures.

Work by Lindley Warren Mickunas, image courtesy Blue Sky Gallery

What A Body Moves Through
May 6 – June 26, 2021
Blue Sky Gallery
122 NW 8th Ave (by appointment only)

In What A Body Moves Through, three emerging photographers (Tyler Clarke, Bryson Rand, and Lindley Warren Mickunas) contend with various understandings of the body, focusing on the expansion of bodily understanding through social, political, sexual, and gendered lenses and histories. The exhibition vacillates between the traditional (in black-and-white photography styles) and the contemporary (through visuals of queerness, femininity, and moments of sexual tension). These nuances allow for plenty of self-reflection and increased bodily awareness. The exhibition includes a Zoom panel discussion on June 9th at 5 PM (register at the link to attend).

Work by Jane Schoenbrun (still from We’re All Going to the World’s Fair)

Capturing an Oneiric State: Dreams and Film with Jane Schoenbrun
June 5, 2021, 1 PM – 3 PM; $80 sign-up fee
Northwest Film Center
Virtual

Jane Schoenbrun, director of recent Sundance horror film We’re All Going to the World’s Fair and founder of the Radical Film Fair, will teach a one-day virtual workshop on the artistic use of cinematic tools to create dreamlike, ephemeral experiences. Referencing iconic surreal filmmakers like David Lynch and Maya Deren, Schoenbrun will illustrate methods of dream-making throughout film history and address ways in which contemporary artists can translate their own dreams to immerse their viewers in oneiric states.

Image courtesy Chehalem Cultural Center

Black Matter
June 22 – July 31, 2021
Chehalem Cultural Center, Parrish Gallery
415 E Sheridan St, Newberg (Tues – Thurs 9 AM – 6 PM, Wed – Sat 12 PM – 6 PM)

Curated by Oregon City-based artist Tammy Jo Wilson, Black Matter features a large group of creators including Zina Allen, Jamila Clarke, Jeremy Okai Davis, Santigie and Sapata Fofana Dura, Maya Vivas, MOsley WOtta, and many more. The exhibition aims to address representation imbalances by focusing on works by contemporary Black Oregon artists. Other goals for the exhibition include broadening cultural awareness and appreciation of Black artists without the filter of a Western art canon or requirement of a political agenda. Each artist featured expresses their personal experience of being, first and foremost, human.

Work by Noelle Herceg, image courtesy Anti-Aesthetic

Architecture of Dreams
May 21 – August 21, 2021
Anti-Aesthetic
245 W 8th Ave, Eugene (by appointment)

The group exhibition Architecture of Dreams uses modes of surrealist art-making to consider interior and exterior states. Each artist considers the unconscious alongside visuals of everyday life. Displaying works by seven artists working in varying mediums, the show also features writing components, including surrealist artist statements, collage poetry, a zine, and a day of surrealist games hosted by Kesey Farm Project. Artists showing work include Vicki Krohn Amorose, Jill R. Baker, Noelle Herceg, Wendy Heldmann, Tallmadge Doyle, Mary Evans, and Leah Howell. Set an appointment to see their diverse works in person, including sculpture, videos, drawings, anthotypes, paintings, projections, installations, and ceramics.

Work by Alyson Provax, image courtesy 1122 Outside

Alyson Provax: Into Gentle Ruin
June 11 – 30, 2021 (June 11 opening night 6 PM – 9 PM)
1122 Outside
7629 SE Harrison (masks and distancing required)

For this solo exhibition at the freshly-reopened 1122 Outside, prolific artist Alyson Provax will display a wide array of her works ranging from 2014-2021. With consideration of memory and nostalgia, the work encourages reflection on the past as well as the present. The mix of Provax’s new and older works includes letterpress on paper, animations, mirrors, and billboard vinyl.

Work by Jim Lommasson, image courtesy Oregon Historical Society

I Am My Story: Voices of Hope
May 14 – August 22, 2021
Oregon Historical Society
1200 SW Park Ave (Tues – Fri 12 PM – 5 PM, Sat 10 AM – 5 PM, Sun 12 PM – 5 PM; masks and distancing required)

Designed by The Immigrant Story, this exhibition focuses on the stories of six women (originally from Burundi, Congo, and Eritrea) who have immigrated to Oregon. In collaboration with acclaimed Portland photographer Jim Lommasson, the exhibition reveals pieces of each woman’s history of survival: genocide, war, prejudice, injustice, courage, and hope. In addition to large-scale portraits of each woman, Lommasson has extended his What We Carried storytelling project for this exhibition, wherein he photographs objects each woman brought with her on her immigration journey.

Weaving the future: Jovencio de la Paz at Holding Contemporary

In "Cumulative Shadow" the artist probes the space between the digital and analog. What if the space between isn't a divide after all?

In 1960, a Dutch mathematician, Dr. Hans Freudenthal, constructed Lincos (lingua cosmica), a math-based language intended to be understood by extraterrestrials. It was designed to encapsulate the bulk of human knowledge, but was primarily a theoretical exercise. Decades after its creation, Canadian astrophysicists beamed a Lincos message to a selection of stars using a radio telescope. The first message should arrive at its star destination sometime in 2035. This experiment was called the Cosmic Call

Jovencio de la Paz, an artist, weaver, and educator whose exhibition Cumulative Shadow is currently on view at Holding Contemporary, also reaches for conversations with the future and the unknown. Their works tread the line between the digital and the physical, finding the tense places and holding a gaze there. Material languages and technological histories are intrinsically woven into each of their pieces; tools of the past help them envision new possibilities for intelligent art-making through the use of algorithms and computer-generated patterns. The results pulsate with a glowy, interior knowing; they speak to the breadth of de la Paz’s research and reveal how the ancient human technology of weaving can transform over time.

De la Paz, the Curricular Head of the Fibers Department at the University of Oregon, was born in Singapore and immigrated to Gresham, Oregon as a child. They describe Gresham at that time as seemingly bucolic, yet violent for POC and queer people. As a result, they spent a lot of time alone, engaging with speculative fiction, sci-fi, and video games. These early influences have culminated in the underlying questions embedded in their work: How does an artist project into a speculative future? How can an artist’s tools align toward the future of art-making?

For the series of works in Cumulative Shadow, de la Paz employed the TC2 (Thread Controller) loom, a hand-operated Jacquard loom, and personally-created design software to create self-generating, “living” textiles. Indeed, they describe the six weavings included in this exhibition as life forms. They’re stretched over minimal canvases, giving metaphorical breathing room. The exhibition also includes a collaboration with Master Printer Judith Baumann—three bright, abstracted lithographs with a trippy, autostereogram feel

Jovencio de la Paz collaboration w. Judith Baumann, Didderen 4.1. Three-color lithograph, 29.5” x 22”.

Many of de la Paz’s works have a holographic quality; through color, repetition, and pattern, they’re able to create a sense of depth despite each work being two-dimensional. The exhibition’s physicality is, in itself, full of contrasts. Woven fragments are stretched taut across canvases, but even the fragments effuse independence. They seem to want to escape the frame and move freely as pliable objects. De la Paz’s lithographs, though also flat, make the eyes swim.

Visual effects also reveal de la Paz’s inspiration for the exhibition’s title, Cumulative Shadow. Shade 1.1, a cotton and raffia weaving made on the TC2 loom, was created in response to a particular conundrum of gaming design. In theory, shadows that overlap should produce darker shadows, but for a programmer, capturing that reality of light and space is very complex. For Shade 1.1, de la Paz mimicked overlapping shadows with pattern and tonal shifts.

Jovencio de la Paz, Shade 1.1 (2020). TC2 handwoven textiles, cotton, and raffia. 42” x 28.5”.

As de la Paz’s weaving work has developed and begun to address questions surrounding physicality and technology, they’ve endeavored to write their own weaving software. They worked with a London-based programmer to create WeaveWriter 1.0, a software that, similar to drawing, allows the user to generate weave structures organically. Giving the computer minimal amounts of data, their software then populates the rest of the design algorithmically. 

Computers can represent our most destructive forces, or help us understand the origins of life. During World War II, a supercomputer at the Institute for Advanced Study in Princeton, New Jersey was used to develop and monitor atomic weapons. After the war, the same computer was employed to address other problems; for instance, the scientist Nils Barricelli sought to understand the evolution of single-cell organisms and prove Darwin’s theory of evolution by programming bionumeric organisms.

De la Paz’s work branches off from these earlier inquiries. Their creative conversation revolves around computers orchestrating their own patterns, and thus their own lives. While Barricelli sought organismal harmony in code, de la Paz is more interested in a code’s lack of harmony, its attitude, its potential for sentience. 

Using BioLoom 1.0, another software, de la Paz algorithmically “dressed” Barricelli’s bionumeric organisms in a “costume” of weave structures that could then be woven. The software auto-grows numerical patterns such that they become lifelike organisms. The pattern is “born,” it interacts with other numbers, then “dies”—a woven abstraction of life. This process resulted in de la Paz’s Bionumeric Organisms series.

Jovencio de la Paz, Bionumeric Organisms (2020). TC2 handwoven cotton and canvas. 24” x 36”.

Both Donna Haraway and Carl Sagan have emphasized a human need for speculation. Science fiction storytelling is a form of folklore, exploring potential cosmologies and other ways of navigating the world (or worlds). In their artist talk, de la Paz wondered about our concept of futuristic art—for instance, mid-century modern furniture was designed to suit an imagined future. (It’s no mistake that this style of furniture shows up in 2001: A Space Odyssey, Solaris, A Clockwork Orange, and even The Hunger Games.) But a still more prescient venture revolves around developing tools for the future of art creation, like de la Paz’s design software. “As we continue to navigate our technological adolescence…the endeavor of survival is linked to the endeavor of knowing the tools around us,” they say. 

De la Paz’s tool-making reflects our earliest investigations into endurance, consciousness, and language. Cloth has been an indispensable tool throughout the ages, and one that has even held data. The Incan quipu, or talking knot, was a recording device created by tying knots on long sections of rope. Quipu stored information on everything from tax obligations to military organizations. Similar recording systems were used in ancient China and Hawaii. We might even think of the quipu as an ancient computer. In science fiction, the creation of new tools tends to tie into our struggle with basic questions about humanity. Will this latest intelligence turn against us? How do we really measure sentience? When I think about relationships between the organic and the technological, Data from Star Trek hovers in my mind’s eye.

Jovencio de la Paz, A Languid Meter (2021). TC2 handwoven cotton, canvas, acrylic. 48″ x 48″.

It would be an understatement to say that de la Paz’s work is complex. It’s a conflicted, collaborative, boundary-testing, unfolding tapestry of digital and natural origins, haptic yet adhering to ever-evolving algorithms. If anything, a lack of context for their work could be challenging for some viewers—there is so much embedded here, but little is explained outright. De la Paz’s artist talk and website were both a significant help in interpreting their work. It’s neither entirely human nor entirely machine-based. This relationship feels fraught, but is becoming more rooted in daily life as technology presses ever forward. 

Why shouldn’t we think carefully about our relationship to the machines of this world? Cumulative Shadow shows us that we do have some control over how we engage with and shape technology—de la Paz’s software remains a tool while also taking on its own creative life. Through the invention and evolution of artistic tools, de la Paz reinvigorates their medium’s original purposes. Weaving has always been connected to language, movement, and history. In de la Paz’s work, it also forecasts our future. 


This article was made possible with support from The Ford Family Foundation’s Visual Arts Program.


A more hopeful apocalypse

Ryan Pierce's lush paintings invite the eye to meander and the mind to contemplate cultural and environmental resilience

Ryan Pierce, Storm-Born Waters (J.W. Powell, Forgotten) (2019). Flashe and spray paint on canvas over panel, 47” x 60″.

Images of the apocalypse tend to follow a theme: Dark skies, derelict buildings, smoldering fire. Over the last few years, phrases like “end of the world” and “fascist uprising” have circled around in public consciousness, tense and unyielding. It’s no surprise. We’re facing down the planetary crisis of climate change, another rise of white supremacy in our communities, and a virus killing millions. This is scary. Many of us perceive a world that’s becoming near-cinematic in its bleakness.

Despite these very real threats, Ryan Pierce chooses to envision the potential for worldly change from an optimistic, anti-apocalyptic lens. What if a collective revolution could be celebratory, wild, improvisational? The exhibition at Elizabeth Leach Gallery, Awake Under Vines, is the second in a series Pierce calls Jubilee. The large-scale paintings depict the confluence of environmental chaos and the end of industrial capitalism as a sort of revelrous feast, full of mayhem and clutter and uniquely human messes. Pierce’s paintings don’t force a new narrative on the viewer, but instead offer possibility: What if the future looked like this? What if resistance also meant regeneration? Although his compositions are jumbled and layered and complex, they offer the viewer a breath, a space in which the capacity for human resilience can spark hope instead of dread.

Ryan Pierce, After the Treehouse Fell (2020). Flashe and spray paint on canvas over panel, 47” x 60″.

Pierce’s paintings, all of which are Flashe and spray paint on canvas, contain obvious connections to the natural world. Vines twist around fences and lattices; hollyhocks entangle with snakes; cacti flourish among toppled monuments to John Muir and John Wesley Powell. It’s no mistake that Pierce depicts destroyed monuments celebrating white men of environmental movements. In After the Treehouse Fell and Storm-Born Waters (J.W. Powell, Forgotten), these figures are, in Pierce’s vision of revolution, literally sinking back into the earth.

As a summer wilderness guide with Signal Fire, Pierce has traveled extensively throughout the West, and his botanical references stem from real-life experience; there’s a felt sense of love and sentimentality in the natural elements of his paintings that then snarls dynamically with weapons and tools of uprising. Masks, knives, helmets, and makeshift bombs drive home the urgency of Pierce’s envisioned revolution. The works are also profuse with distinctly “human” clutter—clothing, broken bottles, balloons, picnic baskets, blankets—suggesting our entanglement with authoritarianism. We’re the ones who have strewn detritus over Pierce’s paintings, and it’s now our task to envision a collective, cultural resilience. 

Ryan Pierce, Flash Flood (2020). Flashe and spray paint on canvas over panel, 72” x 96”.

Plants and animals, on the other hand, flourish within the chaos of these paintings. As always, we can trust them and learn from their flexibility. Ceramic vessels are sometimes depicted broken, as though the plants they housed have burst free of them. Snakes, historical symbols of fertility, rebirth, transformation, and even eternity (in ouroboros form) are also frequent figures in Pierce’s works. In Flash Flood, a snake’s curvature emulates a crawling vine. In this subtle gesture, Pierce expresses a reciprocity within the natural world that humans could learn from and emulate.

As Pierce explained in his exhibition tour, the paintings for Awake Under Vines were created in isolated, vigorous studio sessions last year. This intensity shines in the dense, layered quality of the works and their symbolic meanings. Pierce researched societies during the rise of fascism, reading memoirs from those who lived in Italy in the 1930s, for example. He also read about white power movements and specifically cites Kathleen Belew’s Bring the War Home: The White Power Movement and Paramilitary America as an influence. These inquiries inform a sense of latent violence in Pierce’s paintings—there are numerous signs of a struggle that has just passed, or that is impending—and drive home how this latency is present in our current lives. For instance, in The Waterworks, Pierce uses gardening tools to reference his research on a Proud Boy working within the Portland Parks and Recreation department. 

Ryan Pierce, The Waterworks (2020). Flashe and spray paint on canvas over panel, 42.25” x 40.25″.

The title of Pierce’s exhibition references a vision of Gulliver (of Gulliver’s Travels) awakening pinned under Lilliputian vines. This fairytale idea finds real-world translations in restricted societies, sleeper cells, and resistance movements simmering just out of sight. Pierce’s constant weaving of the natural world into his paintings is, in itself, another radical hidden reference. It’s a reminder that we are not separate from nature—as humans, we are also nature, and thus flora and fauna must be central figures in our plan for regeneration. (Depictions of gardening tools like pitchforks and rakes, which could be either weapons or cultivation tools, further this idea.) 

Pierce is disengaged with the notion of apocalypse in the traditional, melancholy sense. Instead, he looks to our capacity for community-building, organizing, and returning to Earth-centered modes of knowledge. The symbolism within Awake Under Vines suggests an optimistic, improvisational dismantlement of the capitalism and climate-change-denial that threatens our current world, but Pierce’s compositions in themselves are also joyous. His paintings are rife with tangled imagery to pore over, each like a children’s seek-and-find book. 

Feasts, floods, broken objects. Pierce says, Look at all of these things. What are we going to do with them? How can they be repurposed? What happens next? 

Awake Under Vines is on view at Elizabeth Leach Gallery and online until May 29, 2021.

VizArts Monthly: Personal reflections, collective inquiries, and space rocks

May's art offerings are bountiful with everything from tambourine collages to altered communist propaganda to meditations on line.

Dogwoods and breezy days have set the stage for a month of sunlit art-viewing, with precautions continuing in place—be sure to check the visiting guidelines for each gallery! This month’s round-up centers exhibitions that fuse the personal and the collective. Some artists are looking inward, reflecting on their past year’s experiences, while others are focusing on wider topics of colonialism and racism toward AAPI communities. In true PNW fashion, references to the natural world are woven throughout this month’s art offerings, too. Standouts in this group include petrographic photography at the High Desert Museum and Emily Counts’ botanical sculptures at Nationale. Many galleries are offering viewings by appointment, and there are still plenty of ways to engage without leaving the house. Keep up with the digital programming offered by Eugene-based Tropical Contemporary’s 2021 Transformation Residents on their Instagram page, or tune in for performance and visual artist Baseera Khan’s Zoom talk as part of Converge 45 programming.

Work by Emily Counts, image courtesy Nationale

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VizArts Monthly: Day trips, local favorites, and virtual viewings

April's art offerings brim with the potential of spring embracing topics from collaboration to cultural heritage to much-needed laughter

The cherry blossom trees are blooming! It can only mean one thing: the slow ascent into spring has begun. Let’s brighten our days with some fresh art, shall we? Galleries are remaining COVID-safe, with ample opportunity to set private viewing appointments. For Portlanders itching to ditch the city for the day, this month’s round-up includes must-see shows in Astoria, Eugene, and Newberg. Those who prefer to stay home can still enjoy new virtual exhibitions at Upfor Gallery and Jordan Schnitzer Museum of Art. Common exhibition themes this month include identity, cultural heritage, and shifts in landscape. There’s plenty of opportunity to challenge your perspectives, but Well Well Projects’ What’s So Funny? promises some long-overdue laughter, too. Enjoy, and don’t forget your mask.

Work by James Castle, image courtesy Adams and Ollman

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Holding on to the dear: Jade Mara Novarino and Alix Jo Ryan

Novarino and Ryan's "Winnowing" exhibition at Well Well Projects delves into attention, care, and correspondence.

Jade Mara Novarino and Alix Jo Ryan, image courtesy Well Well Projects / Mario Gallucci

The winnowing process is ancient. Early Egyptians depicted this method of separating grain from chaff, as did the Ojibwe. Winnowing baskets can be found in museums, but are still used today in farming communities worldwide. The process of separating and discarding feels distinctly human and natural, and indeed, our instinct is to winnow. We buy books on minimalism and fantasize about modest living. Forbes recommends “winnowing” our lives in response to information overload. COVID-19 complexifies this idea. What does it mean to simplify, to break down, amid isolation and ambiguity and doubt?

In Jade Mara Novarino and Alix Jo Ryan’s exhibition Winnowing at Well Well Projects, the word exemplifies a new kind of abundance. In essence, winnowing for Novarino and Ryan is to get at the heart of the thing, to uncover its usefulness. Novarino and Ryan aren’t practicing Marie Kondo-esque reduction, but rather noticing and sharing experience. Their exhibition casts a subtle, much-needed glow on the simple power of friendship, letters, natural environments, and home. 

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