Happy Hour Release Party for Jasper Magazine Spring 2022 - Thursday, June 9th at Black Rooster Rooftop Bar

Join us as we celebrate all the artists honored in the spring 2022 issue of Jasper Magazine for the official release event at 5:30 on Thursday, June 9th at the Black Rooster’s beautiful rooftop bar.

Among the artists we’ll be celebrating are cover artist Lindsay Radford (written by Kristine Hartvigsen) and centerfold Michael Krajewski (which was shot by Brad Martin in the Black Rooster itself!)

In a jam-packed 64 pages you’ll find another piece by Kristine Hartvigsen on Mike Miller’s new novel, The Hip Shot, as well as excerpts from Jane Zenger and Angelo Geter’s new books of poetry from Muddy Ford Press.

Music editor Kevin Oliver put together a detailed section of new music called “10 to Watch” featuring new work from Saul Seibert, Katera, Desiree Richardson, Tam the Vibe, Rex Darling, Space Force, Admiral Radio, Hillmouse, Candy Coffins, and Lang Owen, with contributing writing from Kyle Petersen and Emily Moffitt.

Tam the Vibe

Stephanie Allen writes about Josetra Baxter and Tamara Finkbeiner’s Walking on Water Productions and their new series Secrets in Plain Sight, with photography by Bree Burchfield.

And we highlight Columbia artist Quincy Pugh as well as feature Will South’s interview with Tyrone Geter all the way from Gambia.

The Three Graces by Quincy Pugh

USC filmmaker Carleen Maur helps us understand more about the art of experimental filmmaking.

Emily Moffitt profiles visual artists Rebecca Horne, Lucy Bailey, and designer Diko Pekdemir-Lewis.

Ed Madden curates poetry from Juan David Cruz-Duarte and Terri McCord.

Christina Xan details the incredible success of Cooper Rust and her non-profit organization, Artists for Africa.

Cindi Boiter profiles SC Arts Commission executive director David Platts, with photography by Brodie Porterfield, and writes about the new public art, Motherhood by Nora Valdez, with exquisite photography by Stephen Chesley.

Motherhood by Nora Valdez, phot by Stephen Chesley

And finally, we memorialize two pillars of the Columbia arts community, Mary Bentz Gilkerson and Wim Roefs, whose loss this spring we are still reeling from.

——

We look forward to seeing you Thursday night.

The event is free and Black Rooster’s regular rooftop bar will be serving drinks and food. Come by for happy hour and grab a drink, a magazine, and a hug from your favorite folks. Or plan on staying a while and grabbing dinner or snacks.

Thanks to restauranteur extraordinaire Kristian Niemi for hosting us.

We can’t wait to see you and show off these exceptional artists who call Columbia, SC home!

WILL SOUTH - Sig Abeles Writes a Memoir

Sigmund Abeles (b. 1934), Self-Portrait in a Hat/Drawing, pastel on paper, collection of Nora Lavori.

            Sig Abeles was born in New York but raised in South Carolina’s Myrtle Beach. His mother had a bad, well, a horrible marriage, so she packed up little Siggy and headed for Dixie where relatives lived nearby. It was Mrs. Abeles’ (pronounced “a” as in hay and “beles” as in Belize) idea to start a seaside hotel (only it was cheaper to be off Highway 17, not quite on the water) and it would be there that her son grew up to love the sea, riding horses, and Brookgreen Gardens. From there, he would eventually make his way back to New York with dreams of becoming a great artist. After all, his pal, Jasper Johns, had not done so bad.

            And, in his own way, he did become that great artist and one of the more recognizable printmakers of the late 20th century. Which means he needs a book of some kind to declare that this is the case.

            “Sig, what about that memoir you’ve been threatening to write for the last twenty years?”

            “Oh, I got busy,” he drawls, with a manner of speaking that betrays echoes of a drawl mixed in with vintage New York aggro and a healthy dose of Yiddish inflection.

            “Busy with what?” I bug him. Most artists need to be pushed until they get to the edge of the cliff, then they’ll happily jump by themselves.

            “Well, there’s my lady, and I’m her man. We need time together.”

            After having been divorced three times, Sig got a girlfriend at the age of sixty-seven, and they are still together after twenty years. Their first date was a walk in the park, literally Central Park. For Sig, ever the romantic, it had been love at first sight.

            “I hope you found a nice Jewish girl, as your mom wished for you to do.”

            “"No, oddly, I didn't. Not even back when I lived with mom.” And he chuckles, ever the gleam in his sharp, highly trained eyes. “Not that I didn’t spend a lot of time looking.”

           “I’m happy for you, Sig. Really. That said, happiness schmappiness. You need to get your life story down in print. You are a first-class bullshitter, and your story would be a good read—the boy from down yonder who made good in the big city. It’s the great American story, isn’t it? Fate would have had you working in your uncle’s grocery story over in Florence, but you defied fate, or something like it, and followed your heart.”

            “Ah, yes. That I did. It really all started in Brookgreen Gardens.”

            “Tell me about that. Maybe later you can write it down and get this show on the road.”

            “Sure. I’ll tell you about it. That spot was where my living education took place at a time when the rural deep South lacked museums of history, nature, and art. I was given either a box of Ritz crackers or a box of Del-Monte raisins as a standard snack and would go sit on my perch and learn with my eyes. On any short list of why I became so damned lucky as a dreamer, human being, and artist, Brookgreen Gardens, a mere seventeen miles south of my Myrtle Beach home, comes in as a close contender for the top. It was where I cut my “art-teeth,” and I would doubtfully have become a professional artist without that magical collection of American figurative sculptures set in formal gardens. Throw in the zoo of local animals, which I also soaked in repeatedly until I was full, and I was able to learn what no one school or teachers could have possibly provided me.

            My lady friend, Nora, likes to tell folks about my “eagle-eye.” In a museum or at an antique show my eye leads me to the absolute best thing there almost instantly. That visual acuteness was developed at Brookgreen. The mystery of how in the world a sculptor could observe a model and somehow translate and transform clay into a convincing, living form for eternity still bowls me over, even though I now understand and practice those processes. The two huge subjects of my personal passion, the human, especially female, body and the grace and power of the horse remains fulfilling, thanks to that rich and exciting collection. From my vantage point on our rooming house’s steps overlooking US 17, I sometimes would spot a huge flatbed truck with a sculpture, sometimes wrapped in tarps with just a huge thigh or shoulder exposed on the way to that ever-evolving Brookgreen. I would run into the kitchen shouting, “Ma, a new sculpture is going to Brookgreen, please, when can we go down to see it, say really soon! OK? Please?”

            Because of Brookgreen Gardens, I knew the name and the sculpture of Anna Hyatt Huntington long before I had heard of Auguste Rodin. The same is true for the names of Gertrude Whitney and Malvina Hoffman before even knowing about Michelangelo, or the way-out, biting wit and satire of Henry Clews before Francisco Goya became a greater favorite and influence. It still seems like an odd happenstance of counter-intuition that it was the lady modelers who were the early heroes for me, not the men. In fact, the first time I “touched” art (and maybe it touched me) is evidenced in a snapshot of me as maybe a four-year-old on a family picnic where I was pulling the tail of a bronze lion by Ms. Huntington.”

            “And, from there to where, my friend? Tell me a little about your time at USC.”

            “My time at USC would prove to be a mixed bag, maybe even a mixed-up bag. In the 1950s, one could argue, correctly, that Columbia was at the epicenter of conservative American mores focused on truth and righteousness and was a national leader in the suppression of civil rights. No irony there, right? It was thus an unlikely place to be if one’s goal were to learn about mysterious creative strategies that might unlock the door to an artistic life. On the other hand, it might be a good place to learn business strategies involving tobacco and the manufacture of cigarettes and how to deny their danger to the health of the world. I knew instinctively things were going to be bumpy when I discovered the art department offered not one course in sculpture. Not. One. A place like Brookgreen Gardens never came up in conversation, however much I loved that place so dearly. It was my launching pad.

            The greatest professor there for me was Bob Ochs who taught American history and was a Lincoln scholar. God, how I loved hearing him dress down those students falsely proud of the Old South. He would happily tell them that their family were not plantation or slave owners, but rather were white trash who desperately needed to distinguish themselves one bare notch above Black Americans. Bob later became a friend, bought some work, had a house in Majorca, was awfully close to Jasper Johns, and was uniquely special—it was a privilege to have known him.

            I was supposed to be a pre-med student. Mom wanted me to be Chief Surgeon to the Free World. But I struggled with math, chemistry, and biology classes. I wanted art like no other desire; it was obsessional. USC's art faculty was comprised of interesting individuals. My favorite art professor was Augusta "Bucky" Wikowski, the adorable, eccentric art historian. She was widowed by the time I met her. Bucky was a great traveler and storyteller. She truly brought slides alive with her insights. Her pronunciation of profile as "pro-feel" delighted me as did her recounting to me over drinks on her Devine Street hillside home of the personae she assumed during her full summer travels to Europe and Mexico. Once she passed herself off as white Russian aristocracy, another time as a famous madam. Long after I left Columbia, the Columbia Museum of Art had arranged a show of her paintings, which were done either while traveling or from sketches made during those trips.

            However, Bucky was extremely modest about her canvases, very self-effacing. When it was time to deliver her exhibition, she stacked all her framed works against the back bumper of her station wagon and then proceeded to back over them all, busting frames and stretchers, doing grave damage to the best of her years of labors of love and remembrance.

            Often, I ranked myself in USC's art department as the fair-haired freshman (or fair-haired sophomore by the time I noticed my post pre-med mistake) while Jasper Johns was the fair-haired senior. The Jasper Johns event of memory was the farewell Mr. Graduate party for Jap after which he roared off in his snappy red sports car to fulfill his dream of going to New York to study at the Art Students League of New York with Yasuo Kuniyoshi. At the time, Jap's works were small watercolors leaning toward Paul Klee and rose period Picasso, sensitive and poetic. Jap's parting words to me were that when I made my way back to New York to look him up and he would help me find a place to live and work, which I did but neither a studio and apartment nor the job worked out for me. I do remember one day when Jap and I were at MOMA and he just said, “the New York Art World is run by four hundred male homosexuals.”

            In 1955, soon after the Supreme Court decision in favor of desegregation, I was called into the president of the University of South Carolina’s office. I had passed out leaflets around campus in support of civil rights, and taped fliers to walls. This work was modest in relation to what was to come in the 1960s, but it was enough to get you into plenty of trouble in South Carolina in the ‘50s. Certain of my views seem to have been influenced by northern proponents of freedom for all (radicals, that is), and the president, had this to say to me: "If you owe them so much (these radicals), why don't you move north to live with them?"

            I responded that I was at USC to get a degree and it was my intention to finish it. My records were on his desk, and he looked them over and proceeded to tell me that with the summer schools I had attended, I had enough credits to graduate. (I had put in five semesters of undergraduate work.) "If you agree to leave USC after this semester, we will send you a bachelor’s degree in June." In essence, he gave me a bachelor’s degree as a way to kick me out of school, similar in spirit to how Southerners will say, “Well, bless your heart!” when they mean “Screw you!” So, I finished that semester and moved to New York, took a small apartment in Greenwich Village on Charles Street and started making art.”

            You must have hundreds of stories.”

            “I do. But I wouldn’t know how to end it.”

            “That, Sig, is a good thing. Now, write the rest of it.”

 

Note: Sigmund Abeles has completed a first draft of his memoir, and, with a good deal of luck, should be out and readable in a year or two.

Will South is an independent artist, curator and writer based in Columbia.


ESSAY: Thinking and Acting Radically About Climate and the Art World by Will South

“This is a real problem, with real consequences. The art world, as it turns out, is far from green.”

2017 Venice Biennale sculpture - SUPPORT - by Lorenzo Quinn reminds participants of rising sea levels that threaten Venice and all coastal cities around the world. The installation, first unveiled by Quinn at the Venice Biennale in 2017 and commissioned by Halcyon Art International, shows two gigantic hands of a child emerging from the Grand Canal in Venice to protect and support the historical building of the Ca’ Sagredo Hotel. "Venice, the floating city of art and culture that has inspired humanity for centuries, is threatened by climate change and time decay and is in need of the support of our generation and future ones”, said Quinn. “Let's join 'hands' and make a lasting change”. (United Nations Climate Change webpage)

Thinking and Acting Radically about Climate Change and the Art World

The positive effects of art on civilization would be difficult to list. Art and civilization are intimately entwined, each giving birth to the other in a continuous spiral of creative regeneration: that is, Leonardo produced the Renaissance at the moment it was producing him.

People all over this planet better understand now how tradition and innovation coexist, that tradition underscores identity and yet artistic innovations allow for inevitable changes. Art identifies what we value, and gives sound, narrative, movement, color, and shape to these values. As both process and product, we cannot remove art from the complexities of the human experience. It is fundamental to how we understand the world: To see a glorious sunset is one experience; to read exactly the right words to relive that experience is a minor miracle.

Readers of the present magazine will find no fault whatsoever with these two introductory paragraphs. This is a journal devoted to the support of art and artists in our community. Which may make the following statement a bit of a shocker:  The art world is a significant and unapologetic contributor to global warming.

No! you say, how can this be? Artists are the sensitive ones, the ones most open to change and action and to spreading the word (through art) that we all must act to create a sustainable, healthful world.

Relax. Of course, you, the artist/collector/reader of this journal are a proponent of mitigating the horrific symptoms of a heating planet—floods, fires, droughts, and virtually every other form of molecular mayhem.

Still, this holds: The art world is a bad actor when it comes to climate change. And here is why:            The art world is comprised of hundreds of thousands of galleries, museums, studios, art fairs, and private art collections worldwide. All of these entities ship art. Art is heavy, often, and needs to crating and boxing before it travels. To ship one two-hundred-pound crate by air from New York to London puts a thousand pounds of carbon into the air.

That is one shipment, one-way, a thousand pounds of carbon emitted.

One hundred such objects would result in fifty tons of carbon released into the air. The typical American car puts out about 4.5 tons of carbon, in a year. If those one hundred crates of art come back to New York (which they will, if they were on loan), then the emissions add up to a whopping one hundred tons of carbon requiring a mere eleven total hours of flight time to be released.

The art world thrives on shipping. Museums crate exhibitions and ship them not just to one venue, but to three or four before those crates return home. Now the math gets fuzzy, because there are so many museums, galleries, collectors, and art fairs shipping stuff and no one keeps track of it all vis-a-vis the climate. Someone should be, or a group of someones, as in a consortium of registrars.

There are 55,000 museums in the world. Not all are shipping monsters, but all of the big ones are—the Louvre, the Met, the Tate, etc. Let’s say, for sake of argument, that a mere .5 percent of all museums are “big.” That would be 225 museums. Further, let’s assume that each of the big museums hosts half a dozen traveling shows per year. That’s 1,350 shows, each with round trip shipping, let’s say, based on the New York to London numbers above—one hundred tons. That adds up to 135,000 tons of carbon in a single year. And let me assure you this: The actual art world number would be much higher—our example doesn’t include galleries, or projects from the other over 50,000 museums that are shipping more than a few things here and there all the time.

This is a real problem, with real consequences. The art world, as it turns out, is far from green. Like every other business, they are interested in green, a bit more it seems than the natural kind. Museums (and galleries, and art fairs) need cold, hard cash (or, warm, either way) to survive. The effects of non-visitation are instant and lethal. In 2020, worldwide museum attendance dropped a breathtaking 77%, from 230 million in 2019 to 54 million in 2020. Museums reduced hours, cancelled traveling shows, and laid off staff. Yes, many museums closed. Not any of our lovely little museums here in Columbia, but the pandemic isn’t over yet.

To get back to the vital, bustling businesses they were two years ago, museums will work to ramp up their schedules. Museums need money. It’s the fuel that drives their engines. But driving is the problem that is making the art world a carbon criminal. Getting all that art, all the time, from one place to another.

Is there a solution?

As with most enormous crises: Maybe.

For starters, museums can organize smaller, more lightweight exhibitions, which consume less energy to ship. Not all exhibitions need to be the theatrical behemoths they have become and to which museumgoers have become habituated. Most museum goers, however well intentioned, suffer fatigue after looking at 60 or 70 works and reading the labels and sharing comments with friends. Trying to experience 150 works of art is a job, not a treat. Museums, in their efforts to out-museum each other, have made shows ever bigger and ever more ponderous and, in many cases, a whole lot less fun. Get smaller. That’s the first and most obvious thing to do.

Build crates out of lighter material. Make use of crush-proof masterpacks when possible, as opposed to wood and steel. If an object requires tons of packaging, how about don’t send it anywhere. A tough choice, sure. But we’re in a crisis, and crises require sacrifices. Serious sacrifices.

Host fewer traveling shows. Yes, that will hurt any museum’s bottom line. On the other hand, it might inspire in-house innovation. What kinds of projects are possible with the permanent collection that are not boring collection surveys?

Some museums sponsor “close looking,” where a painting is set up to be looked at for over half an hour, up to an hour. Imagine what you could see, if you stared at an object that long, looking for every subtlety and nuance you could find. An hour won’t reveal them all. Close looking is just one idea. Be creative—that’s what the art world is good for.

Get people in the community to physically recreate their favorite paintings during a festival dedicated to just that—the tableau vivant, the living painting. Tableau vivants are fun to do, awards may be given out, and of course no art event is complete without booze, and that can be purchased locally.

And now, for the really radical idea: The big museums have way more art than they will ever be able to show. In America, the Met, MoMA the Art Institute of Chicago, all have collections numbering in the hundreds of thousands to the millions. If the largest collections gave away (not loaned, gave) a few thousand pictures each (which they wouldn’t even miss) they could greatly enrich the many small-to-midsized museums in the U.S. Point being, if the museums in South Carolina, Georgia, New Mexico, Utah, North Dakota, etc. etc. all had better art, they might increase visitation while reducing the number of traveling shows they, too, feel compelled to do.

That would be real change. The ridiculously enormous art collections are already teetering on unsustainability and would do themselves a spectacular favor by spreading their riches around.

Wait—what? This sounds like socialism. Well, yes, I suspect this idea does have a whiff of fairness, practicality, and sustainability about it. Mostly, though, it is a radical idea, submitted here in the spirit of let’s all be thinking radically.

Would such a proposal really “work”? Truthfully, I don’t know. But for an idea to be explored, it has to first be on the table. Sure, such an idea would be problematic. But the problems would be nothing compared to the devastating problem we are now facing.

At a distant point, and let’s hope there is one, future art lovers will be able to look back and say that early 21st-century art activists got radical in response to climate change, and the result was not just smart strategies to help cool the planet, but its radicality led to spreading art and its magic more equally throughout the world.

Not a bad legacy, however socialistic.

— Will South

Will South is an independent artist, curator and writer based in Columbia.

The Best of Figure Out 2016

It's part of the changing seasons. As people all over Columbia anxiously await the suspension of the heat index and a reason to put on more clothes, Planned Parenthood Health Systems sponsors an exhibition at Tapp's Arts Center in which all the subjects of the art take them off. It's no secret; Figure Out, which just finished its 4th iteration at Tapp's Arts Center, is one of Jasper's favorite yearly exhibitions. And though the show came down this weekend, the art will linger on in our memories and on some of our walls.

But if you missed it, here are just a few of Jasper's favorite pieces from Figure Out 2016.

Kristi Berry

Lauren Chapman

Lauren Chapman - detail

Lyon Hill

Ansley Adams

Will South

Billy Guess

Kim Fabio

Anne Marie Cockrell

 

Until next year.

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CMA Curator & Frequent Jasper Contributor Will South to Exhibit Work at Gallery West

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Gallery West, located at 134 State Street in West Columbia, will host a special exhibition of recent work by artist Will South from January 26 through March 13, 2016. A wine and hors d'oeuvres Opening Reception will be held at the gallery on Tuesday, January 26 from 6:00-9:00 pm.
Will South, a frequent contributor to Jasper Magazine, has become known on the Columbia scene over the past four years for his work at the Columbia Museum of Art, but also for his role as a painter in his own right. Wearing two hats, in Will's view, is fine "as long as the hats fit." As a museum curator, Will is known for making art accessible, whether in writing, on the wall, or in public talks. He shares his passion for art freely, and sees museum work as an ongoing opportunity for public service. Back in the studio, however, he reverts to the artist who has made art his entire life, only now one who has learned a great deal from art history.
In a number of his most recent paintings, the influence of art history is out in the open. One painting features a lounging cat with a painting by the great Italian modern Modigliani in the background. The Modigliani is interrupted by a floral spray, and the entire image is in a blurred, smoky light. There is no specific message here (or in any of the work, according to the artist) other than the poetry of the moment. The Modigliani in question sold recently for 170 million dollars, but the cat sharing its space is completely unconcerned. The atmosphere is one of quiet and detachment, where, for the artist, what is depicted supports the mood first and foremost.
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In addition to oils on canvas, Will is a prolific draftsman and a number of recent figure drawings will be featured. His attitude toward figure work is unabashedly selfish: "The world doesn't need any more figure drawings, but I do, and so that's why I make them. There is a world of difference between hearing someone sing and singing yourself. Happily, in the shortness of life, we get to do both."

Get Osamu Kobayashi While You Can - Thursday night at 80808

Osamu Kobayashi  

The process of painting is a power struggle. I take my paintings one way; they want to go somewhere else. And when they go somewhere else; I drag them in another direction. In the end, the paintings usually wins.

My work is reductive in form, often compositionally centered, and employs a spontaneous and intuitive array of colors, shapes, and textures. Using these elements I create visual dualities: chance vs. control, organic vs. geometric, warm vs. cool, large vs. small, etc.

Like a good story, the elements that comprise each work push and pull off of each other, creating a unified structure that stays contained--but never becomes subdued--within its own parameters.

The aim is to create work with a sensation similar to that of a clear thought: the idea has its bases covered; there’s no room for argument. In reality, however, these paintings can never be clear thoughts; they are much more open than that. They are more of a confrontation: between what I desire to know and what I can never know entirely. -- Osamu Kobayashi

 

If you read the most recent issue of Jasper you know how proud we are of our native son Osamu Kobayashi whose visual arts career has already lifted off the launch pad, sparks flying, smoke roiling, and is making that last almost slo-mo ascent into space. Right now, we can shade our eyes against the brightness, but soon he'll be another one of those star-like satellites in the sky that we can identify by its placement and history, but no longer actually touch. (Unless we sneak in a visit with him when he comes home to see Shige and the rest of his family on one of those rare, super-artist holidays.)

Osamu%20Kobayashi%20Postcard%20front%2072dpi

Watch this video by Brian Harmon starring Columbia Museum of Art chief curator Will South as well as Osamu's very proud brother Shigeharu Kobayashi to learn more about Osamu's upcoming exhibit this Thursday, December 12th at Vista Studios Gallery 80808 at 808 Lady Street.

Don't miss a chance to meet and chat with Osamu while he's in Columbia.

See you Thursday night at this free Columbia arts event.

Read more about Osamu here.

Will South Show continues at Gallery West through November 16th - by Rachel Haynie

Being surrounded all day by notable fine art neither intimidates nor saturates Will South. He leaves Columbia Museum of Art (CMA) where he is surrounded by notable works of art daily, yet when he wraps up, he goes home to paint in his studio for several more hours an evening. “I love painting and look forward to getting back to it each day, just as I enjoy studying and interpreting it, talking and writing about it in my job as curator at Columbia Museum of Art. I don’t think I can remember a time when I wasn’t making art; certainly I have never stopped trying to paint and draw, but I find I am at a time and place in my life now where I can fully enjoy both being an artist and being a curator. I learn more about creating art from art history than I have ever learned in an art class. ” South says: “There is no substitution for work,” meaning his tenacity at his easel ultimately pays off, and the result of this pleasurable labor is currently on view at Gallery West, 118 State Street (former Café Strudel location.) This show, in which South’s recent work shares exhibition space with the ceramics of Douglas Gray, Francis Marion University art professor, is up through November 16: Wednesdays, 11 a.m. to 6 p.m.; Thursdays through Saturdays, 11 a.m. to 7 p.m.; and Sundays 11 a.m. to 4 p.m.

This show marks the first opportunity for Metropolitan Columbia to see evidence of South as an artist. All of South’s pieces for this show have been painted or drawn in the months since he arrived in Columbia to assume curatorial duties at CMA so have not been exhibited previously. “Simplicity is a virtue,” says South, and that philosophy is notable in the works in this show. To him, “what is enduring about an image is the sensuality of color, the refinement of shape, the human intelligence contained in a line. I challenge myself to edit out all but the essential and, of course, the problem is in knowing what the essential is.”

Spare and lean are words that surface when looking at these pieces, both the oils and the charcoal drawings. One Ahh! moment elicits from the ethereal Back in Blue, oil wash over charcoal. A playful note, revealing something of the artist’s drawing side, is the label for Self Portrait as Pencils, an oil on canvas. Wake Up in New York, an oil and charcoal on linen, may conjure up a bit of déjà vu for this artist who honed some of his skills at the Art Students League in New York. He had come to the city for PhD studies at the Graduate Center of the City University in New York following a Master’s degree in art history and an undergraduate studio art degree from Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles.

In co-exhibiting with Doug Gray, South and his work provide textural contrast. Gray’s interest in color and surface are evidence in the pieces selected for this show. -- Rachel Haynie

 

For more information, call 803-207-9265.