KENOPSIA

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1. I loved this show! Here’s a few thoughts I jotted down about the work:

   In “Kenopsia,” a thought-provoking exhibition at Roswell.Space, Michelle Robinson and Andrew Takeuchi explore two lines of inquiry into the nature of memory, time and perception, in particular the emptiness of places once occupied or inhabited, but now devoid of human presence: the titular attribute of the show, kenopsia. Though both are based in photography, each artist employs the medium in markedly different fashion, yielding an intriguing counterpoint. Approaching their respective projects with systemic organization – Robinson uses the grid in much of her work – both artists create taxonomies of visual recall, using cultural and emotional detail to articulate their ideas.

   With “The Decaying Moment,” the title of his body of work, Takeuchi takes a documentary approach, forgoing nostalgia or sentimentality, seeing instead in the decrepit signage, abandoned buildings, and eerie scenes of nature he photographs a kind of neo-monumentality, the ghosts of businesses and dwellings now empty. For him the past is a visual data mine from which he can capture – an apt descriptor of his methods – visually arresting moments of that era. The images function at a remove, privileging appearance over essence, and his media is an interesting choice for this approach: contemporary instant-photo images, made with a modern camera designed to look like a vintage twin-lens reflex. The camera is somewhat unpredictable, with occasional effects such as light leaks, and virtually omnipresent vignetting; the artist also introduces variables like color filters to further affect the final images.

   The small photos, about the size of a credit card, echo Takeuchi’s approach of a collector or cataloger of images. All vertical in format, presented in a grid on the wall, each photo is inserted into a film cartridge, its glossy surface making of each picture a little vitrine, as though displaying its image like a visual specimen. The resulting images are seductive in their color and diminutive, almost precious size. Ranging from deep saturation to almost monochrome, the photos present places that are sometimes in the grip of decay, while other images are studies in the quiet mystery of nature. “Trees in Swamp (Columbia, SC),” is a haunting meditation on a mysterious forest in a swamp, while “Desert Home (CA),” depicting a structure almost archeological in its ruination, conveys a bleak sense of the inexorable decay of time.

   His dispassionate approach notwithstanding, Takeuchi nonetheless reveals flashes of humor, as in “Dongs (Tulsa, OK),” a large sign with that word prominent at the top, and below, a message board proclaiming “Glock Sale!”, from which hangs a graphic of a revolver. The irony is rich with this one. “Mannequin in Grass (Los Angeles, CA),” an outdoor study of two mannequin torsos that were left on a lawn near the artist’s home, suggests an enigmatic encounter between the figures.

   For Michelle Robinson, places and emptiness have a more immediate and emotional component, finding the tension between the industrial, natural, and personal forces in her own experience. She photographs moments of transition: When does the present turn into the past? What is the moment when decay begins? Robinson’s pursuit of that ultimately unknowable process leads to intriguing application of her materials, which resonate with those concerns. The artist uses a film camera and a darkroom, high-touch processes that allow random or unexpected effects; those photos then become part of larger works. After the initial photos are printed, Robinson employs any number of other media to create the artwork, including encaustic (a beeswax-based medium, which appears frequently in her work), sewing, and Polaroid image transfers (the last medium an interesting overlap with Takeuchi’s photos).

   Her work uses the stark poetics of monochrome (apart from the Joshua Tree photographs and the paintings of the powerline towers) to pare down the essence of each image, an unblinking examination of the narratives contained there. Next to the hermetic array of Takeuchi’s images, Robinson’s photos undergo hands-on changes and manipulation: in two evocative studies of the old 6th Street bridge, she tore photo paper into vertical strips, then exposed and developed the torn paper. Those torn pieces are reassembled by being sewn back together onto cheesecloth and unstretched canvas, somewhat larger that the photo, providing a border for the image. The rejoined images capture something of the subject, a monumental structure slowly and literally disintegrating out of existence.

   The artist’s series “What is Not Observed,” four works of quilt-like reassembled photos of older single-family houses, delves into the paradox of the notion of home as a place of safety and even comfort, yet within which bad things can occur. The sewn grid of photos, torn into small squares, juxtaposes the image of a house with images of industrial towers and trees, a literal fracturing of the integrity of the house in the artwork, with random passages of paint and sepia toning echoing the often messy, imperfect reality behind the appearance of the houses.

   Two unusual works captivate with their media and subject matter: her “Ghosts” photos, color images of Joshua Trees in the titular national park, reflect Robinson’s concerns with climate change and its ominous effects on all aspects of the environment. Inspired by a study that predicts a catastrophic loss of the Joshua Tree population within the next decade, the artists photographed forests of the trees, and then hand-painted, with white acrylic, over all the trees in each photo. The resulting artwork presents the viewer with a dense spectral panorama of the trees that will be gone, a future-looking kenopsia of a crucial piece of the desert ecosystem. The altered photographs are both beautiful and unsettling.

   Robinson also finds a lyricism in her subjects, though. “Sky Saw,” a complex grid of small photos of powerlines and towers, the images heavily manipulated in the darkroom, is a sweeping, swooning composition with its own internal rhythms. The photos subtly vignette the overall composition, a graceful styling that enhances the artwork.

   Elegant and sobering, the work in this exhibition is a strong pairing of two compelling artists, an inquisition into the way images can reveal and conceal our notions of memory, experience, and time.

   Kenopsia has a closing reception this Sunday, from 2-4 pm, at Roswell.Space, 3050 Roswell St., Los Angeles, 90065

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