The Washington Post - USA (2022-06-12)

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SUNDAY, JUNE 12 , 2022. THE WASHINGTON POST EZ EE E3

of beiges and golds. In pictures
that distill natural objects to
graphic archetypes, the
unadorned wooden surfaces are a
remnant of the real thing.

MasPaz: Peace Is Every Step
Through June 19 at Fred Schnider
Gallery of Art, 888 N. Quincy St.,
Arlington

Robert C. Jackson
Technically, Robert C. Jackson’s
hyper-realist paintings are still
lifes, since they rarely depict
animate life-forms. Yet the
Pennsylvania artist’s humorous
scenarios are well-populated with
stand-ins for living creatures.
Balloon animals, corporate-mascot
figurines and a windup chick are
among the inhabitants of the
pictures in “Back to the Future,”
Jackson’s Zenith Gallery show.
The most common elements in
the artist’s compositions are toys,
foods and vintage crates, often
emblazoned with soft-drink logos.
Sometimes a single sort of edible is
juxtaposed with an apt plaything,
such as bananas piled under a toy
gorilla or doughnut holes heaped
beneath a miniature police officer.
Jackson occasionally dabbles in
art criticism, as when he portrays
a balloon animal taped to an
abstract painting — both rendered
with precise realism, of course.
The artist has been called an
heir to Pop Art, and he does
meticulously copy commercial
imagery much as Andy Warhol
and Roy Lichtenstein did. But
where those precursors
reproduced labels, photos and
comics, Jackson prefers three-
dimensional items. Rather than a
box of Cap’n Crunch, for example,
he repeatedly portrays a figurine
of the cereal-shilling mariner.
Focusing on 3D items allows the
artist to demonstrate his
impressive traditional painting
skills, but also to yank them out of
context. Where Pop Art
commented on mid-20th-century
society, Jackson’s paintings
conjure his own little universe,
rooted in consumer culture but
also detached from it.

Robert C. Jackson: Back to the
Future Through June 25 at Zenith
Gallery, 1429 Iris St. NW.

pictorial format: bold black
outlines of streamlined natural
forms, filled with blocks of tan
and metallic gold.
Born in Colombia and raised in
Arlington, where he’s based,
MasPaz is a graffiti veteran whose
nom de aerosol means “more
peace” in Spanish. Inspired by
sojourns in New York City and
South America, the painter
developed a style that’s as
indebted to street tagging as to
pre-Columbian sculpture and
ceramics. Among these artworks’
motifs are flowers and the sun,
while patches of gold spray-paint
represent the precious mineral
that drew Europeans to what they
came to call the Americas.
The wood-panel pieces are the
most dynamic, in part because
their cut outlines follow the
shapes painted on them. Also,
MasPaz leaves some areas bare,
calling attention to the wood
grain and adding a slightly
different hue to the narrow range

not such an antiquarian as to
insist on that. She also provides
digital enlargements on white
paper that are easier to discern,
and demonstrate that tintypes
blow up quite well. With their
narrow depth-of-field, the photos
do resemble historic artifacts. Yet
the poses and expressions appear
entirely up to date.

Elena Volkova: Anacostia Portraits
Through June 18 at Honfleur Gallery,
1241 Good Hope Rd. SE

MasPaz
The paintings in MasPaz’s
“Peace Is in Every Step” are so
closely linked by design and color
scheme that the distinctions
among them aren’t immediately
obvious. Some of the pieces in the
Fred Schnider Gallery of Art show
are on paper, others on canvas
and a third group — the most
distinctive — on shaped wooden
panels. All are linked by the same

imagery has inspired a few artists
to retreat into photography’s past.
One of these technological
escapees is Elena Volkova, a
Ukrainian-born Baltimorean with
an expertise in tintype, a mid-19th-
century process. It captures direct
positives on thin sheets of metal,
yielding small but shimmering
black-on-silver pictures. Volkova
used the archaic technique to
make the contemporary
“Anacostia Portraits” on exhibit at
Honfleur Gallery.
The purpose isn’t exactly
documentary. The subjects of these
formal yet empathetic head shots
are identified only by first names,
although a few photos include
visual clues. Several of the people
are artists, one of whom was
photographed with paintbrushes in
hand. Most of the sitters are African
Americans whose skin tones are
rendered rich and luminous by the
high-contrast method.
The metal miniatures require
close inspection, but Volkova is

as complacent, splash together in
the spliced image.
Upstairs in the resident artist’s
gallery, Stephanie Lane
demonstrates multiple styles of
gestural abstraction. Her large
“Thresholds” paintings include
one in which a multicolored, torso-
like shape emerges from darkness
and three drawing-like pictures
rendered mostly in black
asphaltum (a carbon-heavy
natural substance) on whiteboard.
Although only some of Lane’s
spiraling, spontaneous pictures
include hints of human forms,
they all suggest bodies in motion.

Ju Yun: East Meets West ; Sharon
Shapiro: Then the Dream
Changed ; and Stephanie Lane:
Thresholds Through June 18 at
Arlington Arts Center, 3550 Wilson
Blvd., Arlington

Elena Volkova
Today’s near ubiquity of digital

Art

IN THE GALLERIES

BY MARK JENKINS

P


ersonal identity is a mask,
but for Ju Yun it is one she
stitches herself, using
materials she makes and
finds. Her “East Meets West,” one of
six shows in Arlington Arts Center’s
“Solos 2022,” collages items and
images to symbolically (and
playfully) represent the South
Korea-raised Virginia artist. Some
of her paintings and wall sculptures
invoke masks used in traditional
Korean dance, while hanging
ribbons and strands of costume
jewels yield swaying shadows.
Work that Ju has shown
elsewhere is wildly colorful, and
there are bright reds and oranges in
these works. But the emphasis is on
shades of blue, which gleam against
the white walls like the cobalt-
pigmented ornaments of East
Asian ceramics. Other traditional
elements include Korean and
Chinese text and a realistic
rendering of a tile roof contained in
a culture-hopping larger piece.
What distinguishes Ju's style,
however, is less Korean mementos
than freewheeling energy.
Another of the solos, Sharon
Shapiro’s “Then the Dream
Changed,” offers a harder-edged
sort of montage. The large-scale
collages are based on aspirational
photos of affluent, mid-20th-
century American suburbia, into
which the artist inserts
incongruous elements. This
reflects “the complexities of
growing up female in the
American South,” notes Shapiro’s
statement. The resulting pictures
also highlight contrasts between
rich and poor, chaos and stability,
settled and itinerant. In the vivid
“Crossing,” three migrants struggle
across not the Rio Grande, but a
backyard swimming pool. Various
American dreams, urgent as well

Still lifes

rendered

with satire

and realism

MARGERY E. GOLDBERG/ZENITH GALLERY
“High Anxiety” by Robert C. Jackson, whose hyper-realist p aintings are peppered with h umorous scenarios.
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