Earlier this summer, I reported that Corey Daniels had stopped hanging specific exhibitions at his always intriguing namesake gallery in Wells. Daniels is still iconoclastic about the whole enterprise, perhaps because his tastes are so varied, his curiosity practically promiscuous, and his gallery rooms so large and rambling that it’s hard to fit him into any type of narrative order.
Nonetheless, Daniels has carved out a show, “Jenny Brillhart and Claire Seidl,” in one of the large rooms and another, “New Work from Gallery Artists,” which takes up roughly the rest of the space. Both run until October 9.
“New Work” is a lot to digest. Go with a good hour at least. It differs from this gallery owner’s usual displays in that many, but not all, works are now identified with wall texts, and also because, dramatically, the piece directly in front of you as you enter the doorway is hung in floor-to-ceiling gallery. . This means there is a parcel of art in this high-ceilinged gallery. The amount of work will take your breath away.
On the left wall is a stunning mix of mostly two-dimensional works. As your eyes scan the vertical surface, you’ll encounter various cool geometric abstractions (Michelle Caron, Duane Paluska), softer textured abstractions (Laura Duerwald, Tom Gaines), graphite works that create evocative plays of light and shadow (Munira Naqui), Jung Hur’s rhythmic paintings of keyholes and horseshoes, photography (Cole Caswell’s beached boat is a melancholic highlight) and more surreal figurative imagery (Eben Haines ).
On the other side of the room is a selection of carvings on the walls, tables and floor. This includes Bill Zingaro’s intriguing volumetric metal box grilles, with undulating hammered surfaces that juxtapose fluidity with the rigidity of the material; the devotional-looking totemic figures of Lynn Duryea composed of stacked terracotta elements, wood, oxidized metal and grinding stones; James Bradley Marshall’s constructions of paper bags dipped in plaster and covered in graphite; sheet metal collages by Peter Bennett; and Sharon Townshend’s ceramic wall hangings that appear like undulating cascades of birchbark.
The bedroom is a tour de force of abundance. There is nothing else to do but surrender.
Upstairs, a gallery illustrates Daniels’ ability to elevate everyday objects to the level of art. Primarily black-and-white works by Jeff Kellar ring out in the loft space. Tom Cowgill’s otherworldly sculptures “Four Ways to Resemble St. Teresa” share the floor with two armchairs stripped of their wood and canvas construction (except for muslin padding on their seats and backs ). In this context, it is clear that chairs are not simply functional objects, but sculptural presences. I don’t know of any other gallery in Maine where this happens, and it’s exciting and inspiring to witness a whole new way of seeing.
Jenny Brillhart, “Near and Far Chairs” Photo courtesy of Corey Daniels Gallery
The Brillhart-Seidl couple is something else altogether. On the back wall of this gallery hang Brillhart’s sublime paintings of various tableaus of incongruous objects arranged in empty rooms. These works speak of light, silence and stillness. The chalky whites and grays of these paintings glow with a soft, pale daylight reminiscent of Vermeer.
Like many Vermeers – or, for that matter, countless types of art, from ancient Indian ink landscapes to Mark Rothko’s floating color fields to Doug Wheeler’s light installations – silence and the stillness in these rooms are palpable. We feel suspended in transcendental spaces where time seems to stand still and the world seems far, far away. In a way, these paintings recall the words of the poem “Keeping Quiet” by Pablo Neruda:
If we weren’t so determined
to keep our lives moving,
and for once I couldn’t do anything,
maybe a big silence
could interrupt this sadness
to never understand us
and threaten us with death.
The stillness that emanates from these paintings is eternal, particularly because the objects they contain are stripped of their practical function, lose their earthly purpose, and erase their temporality. The sinks stand on the side, the paintings are hung facing the wall and turn their backs on us, the chairs are stacked on top of each other or overturned. They are neither sad nor melancholic; they are just stillness being stillness.
Clair Seidl, “In and Of Itself”, oil on linen, 2021. Photo courtesy of Corey Daniels Gallery
On the opposite wall, Claire Seidl’s abstract paintings vibrate with movement and energy. They can be contemplative too, but in a different way. After all, “art”, as Susan Sontag wrote in her diary, “is a form of consciousness”. Rather than stillness, these works seem to channel the rhythms of the natural world. Where Brillhart conveys the emptiness and depth of space, that of Seidl can above all be summed up in the title of a work: “In and of Itself”. They are densely layered with colors and textures achieved through the use of brushes, impression brushes, spatulas and palette knives.
With few exceptions, all the action takes place on the surface rather than below. They are frankly and simply what they are. Sometimes they can recall the nature Seidl sees outside his Rangeley studio. “Day In Day Out”, for example, can appear as a dappled light through the branches of a tree canopy.
Seidl’s paintings are spontaneous, not premeditated in any way. They feel personal to his emotional and mental state at the time. We cannot precisely decipher this state; just feel their energy, which seems heightened compared to the stillness of the opposite wall.
Two photos of Seidl seem to bridge the gap between his paintings and those of Brillhart. They are enigmatic selenium-stained gelatin silver prints in which she has superimposed images. The characters there seem ghostly, almost like spirits crossing the rooms rather than inhabiting them. Reading from Seidl’s paintings to Brillhart’s, one senses a narrative that begins with some kind of primordial energy, continues through the fleeting timeline of a human life, and ends in the eternal silence and stillness of the bedrooms. by Brillhart.
Jorge S. Arango has been writing about art, design and architecture for over 35 years. He lives in Portland. He can be reached at: [email protected]
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