Even before I walk through the door at Adams and Ollman, I am a bit intimidated and possibly in awe of Ralph Pugay’s ShangriLIEF, as the walls of the gallery are covered top to bottom and corner to corner with collages and drawings, the latter both on paper and drawn directly on the gallery walls. Where to start? The layout calls to mind the older, and generally more conservative “salon hang’ of art, in which every space on the wall was accounted for, prior to the advent of Modernism. It is a bit overwhelming, as I am sure it must have been in 18th Century French museum exhibition halls. I am certain this was a conscious choice even though I find myself walking in circles and in a state of visual vertigo as I attempt to take it all in.

The vertigo continues as I move into the small room off of the main gallery where I find a drawing on the wall’s surface of a person sitting on the ground in the front of a chain link fence. Clothed only in what appears to be tighty-whiteys or perhaps a diaper, it is unclear if the person is a child or an adult. It makes a difference. In his mouth is a thermometer and in his left hand he holds a marker that is the same color as the numerous splotches on his body. His eyes are askance toward the entrance of the room as if he is afraid of being found out that he is faking an illness. Not that the faux pox will bring about a fever, yet implied is the hope that the subterfuge will somehow become complete and thereby elicit some sympathy. If the drawing is of a child who perhaps doesn’t want to go to school, well, we’ve all been there. If the image is of an adult, more serious issues may be at play. 

On the adjacent wall, the collage Garden of Disassociation (Angry Phlebotomist), presents as an outcome of sorts for our pocked lad. Imagine, if you will, that the ruse gets past a physician, who, in an attempt to arrive at a diagnosis, orders lab work, only for the lab technician to see through the ruse. Yet, because the bloodwork was ordered, she must draw the blood, wasting her time and resources. However, the tables turn on our patient as he is afraid of needles, and to avoid panicking, imagines they are in a beautiful garden.

Have I lost you? Yes, I may be making much more of the work than is merited, yet given this exhibit —more an installation— I might be forgiven, for there are 110 drawings and collages, excluding all of the drawings directly on the walls of the gallery. And in many instances, there are several vignettes within a given piece. Like the person in the Garden, about to get blood drawn, the mind is forced to wander to make any sense of it all. 

The essay that accompanies the exhibition tells us that this series of work partially draws on Pugay’s memories of childhood in the Philippines to create its “dizzying array of associations.” As important as it may be to have insight into the artist’s motivations, history and even process, there are few markers that we can readily discern as particular to his home nation, so we meander around trying, as is our natural wont, to lock in on certain images to create a narrative for ourselves. Ultimately it is our questions that arise and personal associations that we make as viewers that give us any hope to identify, as it were, with the artist’s perspective. 

I key in on Beheading a Duckling, and on the opposite wall in the main gallery, Wrestling Practice, as I have life experience with both. I should also mention that I have drawn blood multiple times as a Hospital Corpsman in the Navy, which leads me to easily make metaphorical associations in a small drawing within the collage, Fairies Falling Over a Cat Condo, of people inside various plumbing pipes. And on it goes: a person coming out of a spigot is drawn directly on the back wall of the main gallery; Floater depicts a woman simply floating in water, her head above the water line; Snorkeling Lovers depicts three people doing just that even thorough the title suggests more of a story; 

Metabolized Spirits is an anatomical drawing of multiple figures with their eyes and noses just above what we assume is a pool of gastric juices in the stomach; not to mention the multitudes of people represented throughout many of the works, including, and to extend the thematic development, People Inside a Person and Ancestral Blackhead Baby, which in the latter, ghostly apparitions emanate from the nose region of the figure, who, by the way, is attired in an undergarment similar to the person with the marker. 

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Although my search for associations is an attempt to gain an understanding of the panoply of drawings and collages, it may be a fool’s errand, as a degree of absurdity persists —both in my pursuit and for much of Pugay’s subject matter— and resists a consensus beyond the text we are given as a guide to our viewing. In fact, I would propose that absurdity is key as Pugay relies on it to bring a sense of humor to much of the work and to the exhibition as a whole. And still, I seek an anchor. I am drawn back to the boy/man who draws the eruptions on his body.

This is an image of a person who wants to be relieved of the responsibility and proximity to others by feigning illness and mimicking contagion to thereby be perceived as abject. To my mind, abjection and absurdity are rather like kissing cousins: both fall outside of normative behavior. Think of the remonstrance, “Don’t be absurd!”  Nevertheless, as funny yet untoward as the image itself is, it may also serve to mock those who reject the artist himself, particularly homophobes and xenophobes: “You see me as abject, and your prejudices are as false and farcical as these marks I make on my body.” Such “double-duty” for imagery has proven to be quite effective in its subversion throughout art history. Manet’s Olympia and Duchamp’s Fountain immediately come to mind. It would not be hard to argue that the most intriguing artists have ignored polite society, and instead immerse themselves in the absurd and abject, searching for a catharsis necessarily found only in their art making.

For Pugay’s ShangriLIEF, this search excavates childhood memories, mines the onslaught that is social media, and explores mythologies, among other things, for which we’ll have to take his word, and which results in a prodigious effort evidenced in this exhibition. 

Pugay’s installation immerses the viewer in a floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall presentation of his work in a manner that makes it difficult to find one’s footing, thus feeling displaced. In effect, we become the outlier who must acclimate. Stylistically, there are faint echoes of the Wisconsin-based cartoonist Lynda Barry’s style as well as her use of pathos (abjection) to a humorous end. I would also be remiss if I didn’t point out glancing associations to Hieronymus Bosch and Pieter Bruegel the Elder in the sheer volume of imagery, which also has the potential to make the viewer, dependent on one’s temperament, a somewhat salacious voyeur or judgemental asshole saved only by the caricature nature of the works. Or, we can engage with the work with some degree of marvel. 

I first saw Ralph’s work some 13 years ago at the now defunct Worksound Gallery, the annex to Modou Dieng’s studio space south of Burnside on the near east side of Portland. I do not remember any particular piece of the eight or so small paintings presented, however I do recall laughing out loud and thinking that I must see more of his work. Thankfully, his career has taken off since then, allowing Portlanders to gain a ready familiarity with his wacky and wonderful world of characters and characterizations. In the ensuing years, his style has loosened up considerably to include work like that in his current exhibit, perhaps allowing him to become all the more prolific. 

It may be that the absurdity is emblematic of a certain anxiety and the proliferation of works, an attempt to come to terms with the mined memories that follow with each series. What we see is his drive to live an examined life.

ShangriLIEF runs through December 20 at Adams and Ollman, 418 NW 8th Avenue in Portland. The gallery is open Wednesday through Saturday from 11am-5pm. There will be a book release on Saturday December 13th.

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