Text by Nick LaPole
”Together We Grow” is the latest exhibition from Chris Vance, marking 20 art-fueled years of production alongside Moberg Gallery. It’s a rumpus by design, one that bounces along to the beat of his own comprehensive aesthetic, from uber chic sensibilities to studied, formalist rigors; collaborative pieces, too, show off his enduring commitment to the medium.
Every painting begins like a party might: with the seed of an idea. It sprouts among several swatches of color (invitees, if you will) that, when loaded onto the brush and applied to the panel, dance upon the surface together. It doesn’t take long for a tasteful organization of marks, applied one after the other, to become a full on blowout. Some of these works are composed of a single gesture (“Riding Spinners #2”), reminiscent of a simple, effective 2-step maneuver; others have a little more complexity (“Running Down a Dream”), to the point where strokes become shuffles, letters, graffito. It’s a ceaseless activity, this style of painting. It’s a celebration in motion.
Consider “Neighbors”. It’s just as much a contest with Van Holmgren as it is a collaboration, where sensibilities clash at first before they find the vibe and mosh it out. Vance’s distinct rainbow strokes bleed together into a graphic, grey dust cloud, within which familiar eyes and limbs begin to take shape alongside graphic stars and pop-soft color, as if molded from the clay of Holmgren’s interjections. Sure, heads and elbows may have conked each other throughout the proceedings, but hey, “Neighbors” says, that’s just the nature of things, the disclaimer affixed to every artist’s process, whether alone or together.
With that energy center stage, figuration shuffles off to the side for a breather, perhaps to wind down, chitchat, or have a drink between frantic bouts throughout the evening. This section, collaged from multiple panels, depicts fellow partiers, icy treats, full spirits, tin mugs, candy skulls, farm animals, and other oddities together on the wall. It’s a place to partake in shared proclivities as the distant scrum plays out in front of them. Their eyes are perpetually glazed; mouths are in varied states of grin, awe, and upset; even so, each item ogles with a knowing, exhausted glance that hints at their familiarity with it all, as if to say “Another round, another party, another sleepless night.”
Consider “Up Where You Belong.” A balloon floats along a sheer, vertical panel, eyeing the sky with an expectancy that is both aspirational and blasé. It’s been here before, perhaps for some time now. The brown walls are pockmarked, scratched to hell by rough-and-tumble attendees; streamers and colored beams float all around the space freely, without escape; the balloon, with blue bags under the eyes and caked on lime green latex, bobs repeatedly against the ceiling. One could eye a prayer in that balloon’s stare, a desire or a dare, perhaps, for the popcorn vault above to change things up a little, to go ahead and pop ‘em.
For someone as prolific as Vance, the question inevitably arrives: what happens after? A painting, an event, a social gathering. There’s the culmination in each, but the wind-down comes almost too quickly. It can be difficult to tell if the dust up afterwards follows a consequential explosion or a pretty misfire. Vance depicts this anxiety multiple times in “Together We Grow.” In painterly terms, flat application changes character to that of wisps (“Portal Flower”), color emits as light amid darkness (“It’s Four Ingredients”), and paper detritus manifests as evidence to nameless activities prior (“Passing Memories”). At this stage, meaning is obfuscated by the hangover or, worse still, the burnout.
The literal title of “The Eye in the Sky” betrays the painting’s lack of answers. It depicts an island with a port that appears, for lack of a better term, blown to smithereens. A mushroom cloud churns from peachy keen to misty white and cultural signifiers emanate within, as if to allude to the bomb’s model or the touchstones of its target. Joshua Bowers, a DSM based tattooist, contributed much to this particular panel; the call and response between him and Vance, much like SpongeBob’s lackadaisical point and smile, attempts to make peace with the picture’s aftermath.
The more time spent with Vance’s work, the more readily a respiration of sorts appears in his process. Once outside the studio, he goes out into the world, travels from festival to festival, scene to scene, with a signature blend of works and impressions before he eventually returns home with stories and connections aplenty. The return isn’t a de-escalation, however, but a period to refresh, to take cozy color palettes and stretch, shatter, or repackage them onto fresh surfaces. Stripes are made with the semblance of gift wrap (“Pathway”), candy-glass constellations (“Life is Beautiful”), or origami packages bundled up, intended to be open (“Unfolding in Time”).
“Always a Dance” is one such gift that manifests as an interstellar visitor. Built like a saucer, with the heart of an artist and a head of an ape, it whizzes through aerospace orange with turbulent white trails. This ship is the representative to a precarious mission, a mission with catastrophes hidden among asteroid belts and atmospheric pressures. The flight pattern? Chaotic. The trajectory? Unknown. Pinstripe pieces fall in its wake, though, so an abrupt landing isn’t too far off.
This brings us to botanical paintings, the latest genre to emerge from Vance’s robust activity. They carry the painterly maneuvers, personifications, and energy found throughout his repertoire yet, in combination together as a bouquet (“Talking Loud”) or houseplant arrangement (“Friends and Family”), they emerge as a fresh take in the artist’s oeuvre and a reminder of what the artist collective tends to.
“Cracked Pots Grow Together” sums up this exhibit succinctly. Acrylic on paper, luminous colors, with leaf and stem that appear sharp and sturdy. A rhythm exists between the stained glass elements and the negative spaces that frame them. It’s an effortless beat where each combination of greenery and clay is allowed to be loud, proud, and a little worse for wear. They share an application and palette and, as the cracks grow deeper and the soil becomes increasingly shared, they afford a place for further vegetation to find purchase.
“Together We Grow” is as much an ode to 20 years of community as it is to painting. If not for the artists, peers, and appreciators cultivated along the way, the years wouldn’t have been as fruitful, the gallery walls wouldn’t be so full to bursting, the harvest of insights wouldn’t be nearly as bountiful. Thankfully, the artist is a gardener, too, one who cultivates land, culture, and peoples amid bouts of studio time and revelry. Such is the creative life; an exhilarating trip defined by creation, play, generosity, and homage to the relationships that make it all possible.
SHOP WORK INCLUDED IN THIS EXHIBIT
