THE TROUT GALLERY
Eidolon; ei•do•lon n.
1. An unreal image; phantom; apparition
2. An ideal
Webster’s College Dictionary
Both meanings of Eidolon are apropos to the work of these young artists. Narrative is not only found in a linear mode, but common to all the art is an awareness, presence, and molding of the past. Buried within each piece are particular histories of material, process, and imagery that unfold slowly, and yield echoes of previous states. There is certainly a sense of something apparitional, for the pieces have life, but live in a world of their own, and as one looks more closely, what is fi rst read as defi nitive tends to dissipate into things less defi nable. In veiled fi gures, in translucent layerings, in the re-purposing of stuff , in the fi ltering through memory, through changing light, meticulously observed color, recalled sounds—all evoke and bear traces of their own past.
There is a very gentle ownership of all these materials here, as if many of them have just been persuaded to exist together for a short time and then move on. Much of the work is also involved in contemplative self-examination, punctuated with exclamations, before returning to a quieter internal state.
As an artist, there is always the feeling that what one produces is an alternate version of ourselves—sometimes idealized, but sometimes (or perhaps more often), it is presented as a question. It can certainly be like dealing with a strangely living entity, which engages in a conversation with the artist, and hopefully does so with the viewer as well.
I want to extend real thanks to all the members of the Art & Art History Department for their tireless help in working with the students: Anthony Cervino, Barbara Diduk, Andy Bale (who also documented the work for the catalogue), and particularly Todd Arsenault, whose mentoring in the fall set this all in motion. Ren Wei, Elizabeth Lee, Lisa Dorrill, and Melinda Schlitt brought their grasp of historical and contemporary perspectives to me as well as the students. Thanks go to: Thomas Wharton, our 2016 Sylvia Smith Artist-in-Residence, for his articulate critiques; Brooke Wiley, James Krabiel, and Jen Kniesch for their guidance of the students; our Post-Bac resident Carley Zarzeka; Department Coordinator Tracy Heyman; The Trout Gallery Administrative Assistant Stephanie Keifer; Gallery Director Phillip Earenfi ght for catalogue funding; and Neil Mills for his good nature and catalogue design. Special appreciation goes to James Bowman, Gallery Registrar, and the true designer of the exhibition. And greatest thanks to the students, for trusting me, and occasionally listening.
Ward Davenny
Professor of Art
April 2016
These drawings explore the human figure through successive states of gesture. Rather than relying on facial identification, I construct narrative through physical language—the expansion and contraction, tension and release, inherent in the body and in its interactions. Pose and illumination alternately suggest movement and absolute stillness, creating an ambiguous sense of time suspended between action and pause.
Difficult, often athletic postures are pushed beyond the natural proportions of the body, while dramatic illumination further distorts and exaggerates form. These disruptions create a heightened sense of tension and unease, transforming the figure into a vehicle for psychological experience. Charcoal is particularly suited to this approach because of its transient physicality. Its capacity to be drawn, erased, blurred, displaced, and redrawn mirrors the instability of movement, change, and impermanence. Each mark retains a sense of what preceded it; every erasure, smudge, and overlap becomes part of the work’s history.
The works vary in scale and perspective, moving between complete figures and intensely cropped fragments of the body. This shifting viewpoint reflects an equally fragmented psychological landscape, rooted in experiences of anger, depression, isolation, and the questioning of self-worth.
Ultimately, the figure becomes both subject and psychological space. The works are intentionally confrontational, asking the viewer to encounter not only the physical intensity of the body but also the darker thoughts and uncertainties that lie beneath its surface.
