Visual Arts

John Blee • November 3, 2011

I have often noticed the incredible exterior of the 19th-century house at the corner of Q and New Hampshire. It is every bit as grand on the inside as the outside and it houses the Woman’s National Democratic Club (1526 New Hampshire Ave.). There is currently a show there (through July 22) entitled “Art in Congress,” with works by members of the U.S. Congress and their families. Everyone can cheer the inclusion of Representative Barney Frank’s partner, Jim Ready, who has a large photograph, “Inauguration Day, January 20, 2009.” It depicts the view of the crowd attending the Obama inauguration in epic manner.

The works in the show contain some surprises, including the thought that Senator Diane Feinstein of California could quit her day job and launch a respectable career as a floral artist. Though she is needed in the Senate, her lovely “Autumn Bouquet” would be welcome to anyone needing some quiet color affirmation. And Representative Raul Grijalva of Arizona displays some very strong graphic gifts in his “Long Day of Legislating,” drawn with a Sharpie. One can feel the tension of April 28, 2007 in his jagged linear qualities.

A surprise is also the sumi-e brush painting on rice paper by Representative Jim McDermott, of Washington. He has been classically trained in the sumi-e technique, and his “Mountain Bamboo” brings its auspicious freshness to the show. On a totally different note, Representative Dina Titus of Nevada shows her book cover for “Bombs in the Backyard: Atomic Testing.” It is appropriately grim.

Erin Kelly, daughter of Representative Betsy Markey of Colorado, is a gifted photographer. She has a diverse body of work that shows a wide range of styles. Representative Mazie K. Hirono of Hawaii is represented by a technically accomplished clay sculpture entitled “Tokyo Dango” that includes cherry tree twigs. There is a bit of ikebana in the piece; it is bold, but in a graceful way.

There is a poem by Representative Diane E. Watson of California entitled “Aunt Gert.” Poems should be found more often on the wall. And California Congressman Mike Thompson has a very skillfully done “Drake Hunting Decoy” made of redwood, oil, and glass, used for duck hunting in the Pacific Flyway of California.

Suzanne Finney of the Woman’s National Democratic Club’s Arts Committee accompanied me through the show. I asked her in the spirit of bipartisanship if any Republicans were invited, and she smiled in response. [gallery ids="99134,102722,102714,102699,102707" nav="thumbs"]

Georgetowner • September 21, 2011

Hemphill Fine Arts
Models of Freedom

Contemporary Russian art is not usually an uplifting experience. Decades of social and political turmoil are quick to surface in the works of the artists, who have often battled severe creative persecution and censorship throughout their lives. At the New Museum in New York, for instance, the current exhibition “Ostalgia” (through Sept. 25, 2011) fills the five floors of the museum with harrowing visions, somber memorials, and vivid outcries of a country torn from deep within. While undeniably powerful and of lasting social importance, it can all leave you feeling weak, even incapacitated.

And so the work of Russian artists Ilya and Emilia Kabakov is a welcome contrast. In the exhibition’s strongest works, Hemphill showcases the artists’ monumental public work proposals, offering a vision of a fruitful, dynamic future.

Beginning his career as a government-sanctioned children’s book illustrator in 1950s Moscow, Ilya Kabakov secretly pursued private works on his own time, exploring societal transitions between construction and decline. Since 1988, Ilya has worked collaboratively with partner Emilia, and the resulting work is rooted in a social conviviality, focused on education and shared public spaces. In a model of the Kabokov’s renowned large-scale traveling sculpture, “The Ship of Tolerance,” first built in Siwa, Egypt and to be presented in Miami this December, an ancient Egyptian vessel is adorned with sails stitched together from paintings of hundreds of local school children from different ethnic and social backgrounds, teaching children the value of different cultures and ideas. In “The Large House of Humanity,” they offer a stunning model and proposal for an empty park area across the Potomac from Washington, to be equipped with green space, a large performance stage, small museums and educational centers. As made clear from the work, these artists are devoted to the growth of social knowledge, ideas and liberty. It is work that deserves to be seen.

“KABAKOV: Ilya & Emilia Kabakov,” will be on display at Hemphill Fine Arts through Oct. 29. 1515 14th Street, NW # 300. HempHillFineArts.com.

Heiner Contemporary
Waiting for a Hollywood Ending

The Heiner Contemporary gave artist David Kramer more than just an exhibition. They gave him control of the entire gallery.

Deeply affected by the cultural clichés, Hollywood ideals, and advertisements he grew up with in the 1970s, Kramer’s work explores the disillusionment of adulthood, while still filled with humor, sincerity and wisdom.

Walking into the gallery, you enter a stylish, nuclear-colored 1950s living room, complete with faux stonewall facing and pod-shaped furniture. Kramer’s paintings, almost littering the walls, offer nostalgic freeze-frames from the era, long lost but never quite forgotten. Men and women lie in each other’s arms with stiff drinks and swirling cigarettes. A stylish gathering of erudite young couples basks in the parlor with all the comfort money can buy. There are also cowboys, nude women behind flowers, family portraits, picnics beside Cadillac convertibles, and so on in that fashion. The entire color palette recalls a bag of Skittles.

Though Kramer is clearly a master draftsman, the paintings are executed with an intentional crudeness and injected with ironic, pithy quips and personal aphorisms of the artist. In one painting, a couple lounges together lovingly with wine, cigarettes and coffee, and across the paper is written, “Why is it that the things I love most…Are the very things that are going to end up killing me.”

The furniture likewise seems a bit off—if functional—until you realize that the artist built everything, from the lamps, to the tables, to the wall, by hand. The gallery will host a performance by the artist and party on Saturday, Sept. 24 from 4:30 to 7:30 p.m.

“Prequel to the Sequel: Waiting for the Hollywood Ending,” will be on display at Heiner Contemporary through Oct. 22. 1675 Wisconsin Avenue NW. HeinerContemporary.com

Addison/Ripley Fine Art
The Literature of Landscape

It is clear in the work of painter Mary Page Evans that the landscape genre is very much alive. The conviction and fluidity of her brush strokes, her intuitive sense of the textures of land, sky and sea, and her pure, unfiltered observation are nothing other than the culmination of years devoted to mastering this artistic tradition.

Addison/Ripley Fine Art is exhibiting a large body of new works by this prolific regional artist. In her recent paintings, Evans has taken the ocean swells, rolling hillsides, and lush forests of the East Coast, and broken down the planes and surfaces into a cohesive, undulating rhythm of color and texture.

There is an expansiveness and allusion in her bold, loose brushstrokes that is almost literary, referencing a history of predecessors, from her mentor Gene Davis—of the Washington Color School of painters—to Monet, de Kooning, and renowned landscape painter Richard Mayhew (whose work is currently on view at the Parish Gallery in Canal Square). The only equivalent to experiencing the graceful, fluid work of this artist would be to walk through the Shenandoah Mountains or explore the windy coastline of the Virginia shore. But this sure is a lot closer to home.

“Skies, Trees and Sea,” the artwork of Mary Page Evans, will be on display at Addison/Ripley Fine Art through Oct. 15. 1670 Wisconsin Avenue NW. AddisonRipleyFineArt.com

Ari Post • July 26, 2011

Nam June Paik and Lewis Baltz are not a likely association. They’re not Jasper Johns and Robert Rauschenberg, Picasso and Braque, John Cage and Merce Cunningham.

Born in Korea, Nam June Paik (1932-2006) was a contemporary, avant-garde composer who became the pioneer of video art. Lewis Baltz (b. 1945) is a fine art photographer who made a career out of capturing bleak industrial landscapes of parking lots, office buildings and empty storefronts. Paik worked in New York City, Baltz worked largely on the West Coast. The two artists never met in any substantial capacity or worked together, nor did they express any noted interest in one another.

What they do have in common is that their works are both on display in compelling, complimentary exhibitions at the National Gallery of Art. With these concurrent shows, the National Gallery has fostered a dialogue on the industrial and technological sprawl of the mid to late 20th century. Together the installations offer a look into the searching minds of modern artists dealing with the encroaching disaffection and homogeny of surrounding environments, cultures and medias. That these artists came to such similar conclusions in their work in such different ways is remarkable, but as the Gallery suggests, it is also perhaps inevitable. As art historian David Joselit said, “It’s hard not to ask oneself how something so simple has become so complex.”

Joselit was referencing Paik’s installation, now on view in the Tower Gallery in the East Wing of the museum. As with many references in modern art, this statement is at once glib, generalizing and grandly ubiquitous, while concurrently site-specific. The Paik installation is all of these things—which is not to say it isn’t great.

A lone candle burns in the middle of the totally dark room. Monitoring the wick with its infrequent flickering is a video camera, whose uncompromising gaze at a proximity of a few feet is—not unintentionally—hilarious. The camera is plugged into a jumble of wires, which the gallery leaves visible, connecting to a number of projectors that cast the candle across the room in a smattering of prismatic, Technicolor distortions and spliced RGB projections.

Off to the side a Buddha statue, defaced with paint and graffiti, stares at itself in a column of four stacked televisions, which display distorted images of the Buddha, which is in turn lit only by the light from the TVs that are reproducing its own image, and so on to infinity.

Indeed you ask yourself, standing in a room that is decidedly obsessed with itself and all its unsacred nothingness, how something so simple and pure as a candle is suddenly laid out in such nonsensical, overwrought terms. The Buddha, a symbol of holiness and enlightenment, becomes the center of its own limited universe. Something so virtuous turns unappealing, dirty and unwelcoming.

Much like the aluminum siding, cracked concrete walls, paint-flecked steel doors and potholed asphalt Baltz captured in his photographs. The great human striving for culture and community, beauty and betterment, is historically manifested in architecture. In this respect, Baltz’s portraits of deserted storefronts, alleyways, parking lots and gutter drains offer grim criticism of American taste and progress. Largely void of any perspective or horizons—and completely void of human life, natural elements and anything beautiful—these pictures draw attention to a loss of history, a cloying triumph of mass industrial corporation in the cultural landscape of our country.

Television, Paik’s medium of choice, is a part of this takeover. (Paik in fact made a point to note that he never actually watched TV, but used them only to distort or create images.) The artists together speak about a world in decline—not by way of bankruptcy, war or starvation, but by way of shriveling beliefs and restrained, unengaged consciousness.

However, maudlin sentiments aside, the shows also work very well as plain old art. Baltz’s photos are beautiful in an abstract way—many of his contemporaries were minimalists, and paintings by Richard Serra smartly accompany this exhibition. Baltz has a sharp, classical sense of composition, and his images induce a sort of hollow nostalgia. The Paik installation is in turn a lot of fun and eerily interactive. Stand behind the Buddha and you become part of the perpetual image; you are tempted to blow at the candle to watch the room bounce with light. Or perhaps you’re tempted to blow it out.

“In the Tower, Nam June Paik,” through October 2 in the Tower Gallery of the East Wing of the National Gallery. Lewis Baltz’s photography exhibition, “Prototypes/Ronde de Nuit,” through July 31 in the West Wing of the National Gallery. For more information visit NGA.gov/Exhibitions.

David Richardson •

Ari is a trained draftsman, and it shows in his series, “Place Names,” showing at the Parish Gallery in Georgetown, November 19-30. Ari’s paintings are “old school”—stripped of flash, subject matter irony and mixed media techniques of many painters showing today. The work is straight oil paining: pigment, linseed oil, turpentine and board, all applied with earnest, grit and hard labor.

This body of work is partially inspired by a combination of the painter’s Jewish heritage, a recent trip to Israel and a search for universal spirituality. Ari comments: “My great grandparents on both sides were born in small villages scattered throughout what is now Latvia, Poland and Russia, almost all of which were wiped out over the last century. When even these scraps of history are lost, what becomes of the ancestral traditions and beliefs? And what do they then mean? With cultures so violently uprooted and jostled, what is there to look back to?’’

Ari’s family history is one of migration, and his pieces are an expression of this background. He addresses the tragedy of these vanished places directly. As the show’s name implies, the titles of these paintings are largely drawn from Jewish Shtetls, or townships, from Latvia and Poland, most of which were wiped out during the Bolshevik Revolution and World War II. Along with the towns, centuries of tradition and heritage were lost to its people.

One of two larger pieces, “Bauske,” features three well-placed figures that crowd the space of the canvas. Two of the figures, contemplative in appearance, are juxtaposed and nearly mirror each other. A third, more youthful figure casts an open gaze that creates a psychic and visual contrast, which I read as knowledge of a fate that the two dominant figures are resigned to or unaware of. The reddish circular areas above each figure reflect an eternal presence, perhaps their souls.

This sense of displacement sits deep in Ari. His mother hails from South Africa, where her grandparents migrated from Eastern Europe. Immigrating to this country, she brought with her African masks, carvings and paintings, which Ari has viewed since childhood. Carried dormant in his memory for years, remnants of these images are revealed in his own paintings. This element of Ari’s work causes me to recall Richard Deibenkorn’s comments about composing from recollections of Bayeux Tapestry reproductions given to him in his childhood by his maternal grandmother.

Ari paints the gnarled hands and contemplative faces in the pictures in a direct manner. The anatomical aspects of the paintings are modeled to volume using interlocking and flowing flat planes, accented by strong graphite or etched lines. There is a sense of wood carving simply in the manner that Ari builds dimension in his figures. Additionally, much of the color of the work is earthy, perhaps akin to the colors of his mother’s African pieces. Ari’s work resonates with a viewer familiar with expressionist and possibly cubist work done before 1930, yet the style is unique and surprising.

Aside from the mystical intrigue of the contemplative figures and the unique manner that Ari paints, his painting “Zagare” stands out for its color composition of black, red and green. The figure’s massive blue-black beard and head covering weigh well against the carefully crafted red shape of the garment and the receding greenish-blue background, which are painted with equal thoughtfulness and care. The overall effect Ari creates in this and other pieces is one of separate elements subordinated to the organic whole of the image. One almost overlooks the delightful way the fingers of the sitter in “Zagare” rest on the cane he is holding.

This series of paintings provides a first look into the work of a young, ambitious painter. With unlimited potential and a deep reservoir of talent, Ari will no doubt produce much more work.

Ari Post’s exhibition, “Place Names,” will be showing at the Parish Gallery in Georgetown from November 19-30, with an opening reception on the 19th from 6-8 p.m. For more information visit www.ParishGallery.com. [gallery ids="99549,104489,104496,104493" nav="thumbs"]

Ari Post •

Since the late 1960s, the Jackson Arts Center has been a unique haven for artists within the city and Georgetown neighborhood. Without the studio space available in many cities around the country, Washington artists often find themselves without suitable accommodations, working out of their homes or group-leased office space. But when the Jackson School closed its doors as a public elementary school, a colony of artists took control of the Victorian schoolhouse and transformed its spacious rooms with tall, wide windows into ideal studio space for artists of all kinds. Not as commercialized as the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, VA, the Jackson Art Center is an ideal retreat for serious artists who want to focus on their craft and contribute to the community’s culture. Over forty years later its vision has remained steadfast and the artwork enriching.

The Jackson Arts Center, 3050 R St. NW, will be holding their Open House on Sunday December 5, from 12 to 5 p.m. The artists will be in their studios ready to discuss their work, and some is even for sale. And with the holidays just around the corner…you get the idea. The work will speak for itself.

I sat down with Simma Liebman, a painter and president of the Jackson Arts Center, for a Q&A about the history of the Jackson Art Center and its importance within the community:

What is the history of the Jackson Arts Center? How long has it been with the community?

The Jackson School was one of several DC public elementary schools in Georgetown, until the late 1960s when enrollment dwindled. The 115-year-old building stood vacant at the corner of R Street and Avon Lane for close to ten years when a group of local artists inquired about renting the building for use as studio space. DC Public Schools agreed to lease the building to A.Salon, a group of independent artists, as well as to the Corcoran School of Art.

After several years, the Corcoran moved out and leased a building at Wisconsin Avenue and Reservoir Road. DCPS allowed A.Salon to assume the full lease for Jackson. When word got out among DC artists that studio space was available in an old public school building, we were inundated with inquiries. Within a month, our A.Salon group grew from five to 30 artists.

We are currently operating under a 15-year lease with DCPS and have reorganized as Jackson Art Center. There are now more than 45 artists using the building.

Tell me about the space and what you’ve done with it.

Jackson was built in the same style as many Georgetown public schools: three floors, four large classrooms per floor, each with a narrow “coat room” outside of it, with bathrooms in the basement, wide staircases, and no elevators. When we moved in, we found quite a few reminders that the building had been designed for young children—rows of coat hooks three feet above the floor, small toilets and sinks and so on.

The building retains many features that show its age. There is a massive boiler system (complete with coal bin, although now we use gas) that provides heat to radiators that hiss and clank as steam moves up in them; a predecessor to today’s fire alarm systems whereby if there’s a fire or smoke emergency in the boiler room, a stream of water gushes out of a first floor pipe to the sidewalk in front of the building, to alert any passersby to get help; and electrical wiring designed for light bulbs only.

But the space is fabulous for artists. High ceilings, large windows, lots of light. By dividing the large classrooms into as many as four spaces each, we can now accommodate 45 artists, with lots of common areas for members to display their work.

When we moved in, about 25 years ago, DCPS provided some maintenance to the building, but our current lease requires that we maintain the building ourselves. So far, with rent credits provided by DCPS, we have been able to repair the roof, install a new boiler, repair an outside wall and perform some mold abatement.

How long have you personally been with the center?

I joined A.Salon in 1988. At that time, the Corcoran was occupying most of the classroom space. At first I shared a basement studio with another painter, but when the Corcoran moved out in 1990, we both moved up to the top floor.

We are basically a volunteer organization. Since I’ve held a studio in the building since 1988, I’ve been involved in the organization of the membership in various ways. We established a seven-member board as well as three operating officers. I am the current president.

What was it like when you first got here? Has it changed?

Jackson is a registered historic building. With its position on R Street across from Montrose Park, it has great views from every window.

When I moved in, the Corcoran had already made some improvements in some classrooms: wood floors, updated wiring for computers. But basically, it was an old building with great windows and light. In the early 90’s, the city performed some asbestos removal, and, as I mentioned before, over the years we have had to repair the roof and gutters. Physically, the building is showing its age. But we are determined to preserve it as best we can.

What makes Jackson Art Center such a commodity to the city, from the perspective of the artist as well as the patron/public?

There is a dearth of affordable studio space in this city. There are no old “factory” buildings like you find in New York or Philadelphia that can be easily converted to studios. Many area artists tend to work either at home or in small retail spaces scattered around the city. We are very grateful that DC has allowed us to convert the Jackson School building into shared studio space, and we try to take every opportunity to reciprocate by being good neighbors and opening up our doors to the community.

Are all the artists members of the Georgetown community?

21 Jackson artists live in Georgetown. Most of the rest live elsewhere in DC and a few in Virginia and Maryland.

Has the city been helpful in supporting and maintaining your efforts? Is there anything you would like to see change?

We are most appreciative of the city’s support. Likewise, we hope to continue to be able to offer studio space to DC artists as well as preserve this historic building. The only change we would like to see is no change.

Do you guys often involve the community with yourselves and what you’re doing?

Part of our mission is community involvement. While our building is accessible only by members, we open our doors twice a year—in May and December—for the public to see the building and visit artists in their studios. Periodically, we hold “Art Talks,” inviting the public to attend a lecture or presentation.

What are your hopes for the future of Jackson Art Center?

It seems that in the 22 years I’ve had a studio at Jackson, the consistent concern has been for our future in the building. Since there are really no art studio buildings in DC like the Torpedo Factory in Alexandria, it would be terrific if the city and Georgetown could help establish Jackson as a permanent art building. I believe the neighborhood would appreciate having the building used for purposes other than another condominium. And there are endless opportunities for us to interact with the community, such as providing meeting/event space, art classes and lectures.

Any projects in the works now?

Yes! Our Open Studios will be held on Sunday, December 5, from 12 to 5 pm. As always we invite everyone to stop by and see what we’re doing. Most of our members will be there in their studios, happy to talk to you about their work and, of course, to sell you a piece or two. It’s a fun afternoon with music and refreshments. And children are welcome, too.

And always, our biggest project is preserving the Jackson building. Now that our roof is fixed, we need to address the windows, which are in bad shape and in desperate need of replacement. And there are a lot of them. We’re presently in negotiations with the DC Realty Office to do this major repair. After that, we hope to repaint the common interior spaces.

Visit the Jackson Art Center online for more information. [gallery ids="99566,104794,104820,104816,104799,104812,104804,104808" nav="thumbs"]

Ari Post •

Outside of Greek and Roman history, the sculptural and ceramic arts seem unfortunately neglected mediums. For every Alberto Giacometti or David Smith you can name, there are dozens more painters and architects that come to mind from those same eras. But the beauty and experience of 3-dimensional artwork remains an influential and important medium, which Rebecca Cross has been proving for the better part of her career. Since Cross opened the doors to her Georgetown gallery in March 2006, the Cross MacKenzie Gallery has given sculpture and ceramic artists a home in the local gallery community. For the neighborhood, it has been a source for contemporary sculptural and functional art, second to none in its quality and diversity.

Over the past five years, Cross MacKenzie has put on some of the most unique, fun, memorable, interactive and thought provoking exhibitions of any gallery in town. Cross will be relocating the Cross MacKenzie Gallery to a new space downtown over the course of the summer. She sat down to speak with us about her personal history, her experiences in Georgetown, owning a gallery in today’s economy, and the blessings and burdens of championing the sculptural and ceramic arts.

Why did you initially settle on Georgetown for your gallery? Do you have a long history with the neighborhood?

I love Georgetown. I love the architecture and community. Having grown up in the area, I always loved the neighborhood, and my husband Max grew up here since he was a teenager. I had thought about Old Town as well, which I also adore, but I live in Woodley Park, so Georgetown was frankly much closer. It was a pretty easy decision.

What was your M.O., so to speak, in opening a ceramic art gallery? Were there any in the city already?

There were no other galleries specializing in clay – Maurine Littleton [of Maurine Littleton Gallery on Wisconin Ave.] specializes in glass. The medium is so exciting, with such a diverse range of work, it was a shame not to have any representation of functional, sculptural art in such an art-friendly neighborhood. Clay can be organic, mechanical, it can take on any form—it’s an ancient, historical medium since man’s earliest days, and one still challenging artists today.

What was your area of focus in your school?

Well, my father is an architect, and I was raised with the arts being very central in our lives. He studied with Walter Gropius, founder of the Bauhaus School, at Harvard. I was an art major at Bennington College, and then spent a year studying sculpture at St Martin’s School of Art in London.

I got my Masters Degree in Painting from the Royal College of Art in London, where I also studied ceramics. After that, I assisted Sir Anthony Caro for 2 years in London, while working at the Hard Rock Café at night. I showed for 17 years at Addison/Ripley Gallery here in town, and later at the Ralls Collection, before opening Cross MacKenzie Gallery in Canal Square.

Where else has your work been featured?

My work is in the Smithsonian’s Renwick Gallery, many private collections, hotels and Embassies, among other places. I did set and costume designs for the Norwegian dance company Bresee Dansk Co., which was performed at the Kennedy Center Terrace Theatre. I also did sets and costumes for Ballet Rox in Boston, “Urban Nutcracker”—very colorful work. It’s in its 10th season now—I loved doing that. I’ve also been fortunate to receive a number of grants over the years.

I married Max MacKenzie, who is a brilliant photographer as well. He specializes in architectural photography and he has been very successful as a fine art photographer.

Can you describe the trend of the gallery business over the past decade?

The financial crisis was devastating. I started off well, doubling my sales from year 1 in the 3rd year, and then boom—the financial crisis hit. Everyone decided to pay down their credit cards and rebuild their retirement funds. All of a sudden people decided they could live without art—and they did, much to all the galleries’ demise. So many galleries have closed in DC. But slowly, people are finding they can enrich their lives again with purchases of art and they are taking advantage of the current climate, where they can negotiate to their benefit. Right now is actually a great time to buy art.

What other challenges have you faced owning a gallery?

The physical aspect of specializing in 3D art has been difficult. As a result, I’m moving towards showing more 2D work in the future. 3D is not only harder to sell, it is challenging to pack and ship. There are a lot of cumbersome logistics in dealing with 3D art.

What prompted your decision to move?

As much as I love the space I’m currently in, after 5 years it’s time to change my direction. Partly for the challenge of the stairs into the current gallery—three flights up and three flights down is a real problem for moving work! I also want to be closer to our home in Woodley Park, where I can walk to work. I’m looking forward to joining the gallery walk in Dupont Circle. Our part of Georgetown is rather hidden in Canal Square. It’s a beautiful environment—peaceful, lovely, a great location. But it’s perhaps too well kept a secret, and people complain about traffic and parking when coming from other parts of town. I love all the restaurants, and my clients often eat at the Sea Catch after openings, but there will be restaurants in Dupont Circle, too.

Do you find time to work on your own projects while juggling the responsibilities of the gallery?

I have just recently started doing my own work again since opening the gallery. The gallery is very demanding—curating, organizing and promoting each show is very time consuming, and my own work has taken a back seat. I hope to one day find a balance with the gallery and my work, but for now the gallery needs all of my attention.

So…tell us about the new gallery!

We’re moving to 2026 R Street, off Connecticut Avenue, collaborating in a space with designer Mary Drysdale, who owns the building. We will open by invitation and appointment over the summer, and we’re opening to the public in September, with an exhibition of Michael Fujita.

For more information visit [CrossMacKenzie.com](http://www.crossmackenzie.com/).

John Blee •

Jackie Cantwell is a courageous young dynamo in the DC art world who has created Curating For A Cause, an organization that benefits non-profits through promoting DC artists. She spoke to us about her unique organization and her life.

Where are you from?

JC: I was born and bred in good ol’ Reston. My Dad is a painter and professor of computer art and animation at Montgomery County College. He also frequents my auctions as the Auctioneer and is known for hamming it up. I grew up in a house stacked high with artwork. One early memory I have is being perched on my Dad’s hip, with him asking me why each painting had a good composition. My Dad and I used to draw a cartoon called “Fuzzy Bunny” every night before I went to bed, about the adventures of an excitable male rabbit looking for love.

Later I majored in painting and printmaking at Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond.

My Mom has done it all: she got her BFA in photography and worked for NASA.

Who are you favorite artists?

JC: I admire people who do what makes them happy, no matter the stakes. I would include films by Wes Anderson and David Lynch. I also love the graphic nature of Jenny Saville’s paintings. Pablo Picasso is an oldie but goodie.

What got you into connecting artists to auction their work for charity?

JB: Last year I was fortunate enough to be introduced to a local non-profit called Dreams for Kids. With no budget and very little experience, I planned their first arts fundraiser in the form of an art show and auction.

I wanted to create arts events that were accessible to everyone. I was sick of stuffy, expensive, quiet events where everyone whispered and went home early.

I created Curating For A Cause, an organization that not only benefits non-profits monetarily, but also provides a platform for people to access good art, promote artistic talent, and connect with various networks, thus creating marketing opportunities for all parties involved. Our events are accessible to a diverse group of audiences and truly benefit all participants. These are charity events where there are real people, and good music, and there just happens to be high quality art that you might fall in love with, all to benefit a great cause.

What is your connection with Pink Line Project’s Philippa P.B. Hughes?

JC: I was looking for advice and wanted to see if Dreams For Kids could work with the Pink Line Project in some way. After putting on a show of work at Paolo’s in Georgetown I was looking for my next venture. Philippa told me to keep doing what I was doing and that I would find my way. She asked me if I wanted to write for the Pink Line Project and now I do. I learned from Philippa that you must be true to your own voice.

Who have been your mentors?

JC: Adam Lister, from the Adam Lister Gallery in Fairfax, has been a great mentor on all accounts. I admire Adam and how he provides free art activities for children. Also Andrew Horn, the executive director of Dreams For Kids in DC, has been there for every second of the growth of my organization. His energy and outlook are truly inspiring.

What’s been the biggest surprise for you in Curating For A Cause?

JC: The biggest surprise is what a great artistic community DC really has. I have also been surprised by the willingness and genuine interest the artists have shown in working with me.

Do you enjoy teaching, and what does it bring you?

JC: I love teaching kids. Watching a kid realize that blue and yellow make green: that’s it for me!

Visit Curating for a Cause online for more information. [gallery ids="99587,104914" nav="thumbs"]

Ari Post •

The Cross Mackenzie Gallery, in Canal Square in Georgetown, has kicked off their artistic season with a small but resounding triumph. “Paisley Monuments,” the gallery’s latest exhibition of DC artist Tamara Laird, brings together a playful, natural whimsy with serene elegance, offering a fittingly contemporary aesthetic in a subtle sea of history.

Laird is an accomplished professional artist and a ceramics professor at the Corcoran College of Art and Design, whose travel has had a tremendous impact on her work. When still a student, she traveled to England and met many renowned British ceramists, including Bernard Leach. She spent time in Zaire, and in 1984 moved to Nairobi, Kenya, where she worked at the National Museum of Kenya on a project funded by the United Nations and taught art at the Kenyatta University. From there, she went to Bangkok Thailand, where she conducted extensive research in local ceramics, from traditional village production to full-scale industrial ceramic factories.

She participated in a tour of ceramic factories in Mexico that integrated traditional and contemporary industrial majolica production. She currently teaches majolica techniques for an annual summer study abroad program in Amalfi, Italy. Her studies and travels all work toward Laird’s is interested in finding the connection between local cultural and artistic development.

Her current works, exhibited in “Paisley Monuments,” are ceramic sculptures based on the paisley motif, a universally recognizable pattern that has been used for thousands of years. It originated in Persian culture, as a fertility symbol among other things, inspired by the shape of the cashew nut. The shape, mainly seen patterned in fabric throughout the world, is given vibrancy and tremendous fullness in the way that Laird has transformed these symbols into sculpture. It is reminiscent of the delicate beauty of a pregnant belly, the crane of a swan’s neck, the budding of a flower in springtime, and countless other allegorical allusions throughout so many cultures of the world.

And this is precisely why the work has such power. The work prompts your imagination to engage with it.

Which is not to take away from the raw aesthetic power of the works. The texture and luster Larid is able to achieve through her glazing process is remarkable. The works are all high fire ceramics, but she uses metallic glazes, called lusters, on many of the works, giving the feeling of soft, smooth metal. While some pieces resemble the clay from which they are molded, others look equally as if they were cast in bronze.

It would be impossible to review any individual piece in the show, as they all work socialistically (Tea Partyists be warned) toward the collective strength of the show. Walking into the Cross Mackenzie Gallery amidst these sculptures, reminiscent of Brancusi and Tim Burton in the same breath, is like stepping into a garden of suspended creation.

The garden-like quality is not lost on Laird, who has designed them to be outdoor friendly, to be fit among gardens and as outdoor sculptures. She was even in a recent show at the National Botanical Gardens involving plant-inspired artwork. But don’t mistake my intentions—the works would be beautiful anywhere.

The Cross Mackenzie Gallery, at 1054 31st St NW, in Canal Square, is run by Rebecca Cross. For more information about this exhibition and others, visit CrossMackenzie.com or email Becca@CrossMackenzie.com. [gallery ids="99602,105037" nav="thumbs"]

John Blee •

Inscape that has hints of the natural world as well as jewel-fragments is found in the work of Robin Kohlman Fried (Temple Emanuel, Art in HaMaKom, 10101 Connecticut Ave, Kensington, MD; Mon. – Thu. 2:30 -5, Fri. 9-4; though Sept. 30.) Although relatively smaller in scale than some of this artist’s earlier work, these pictures seem done on a dare to create as wide an arc as possible in terms of color and composition. That Fried succeeds on her own terms in each picture is the result of her own gifts, but also a strong determination.

Fried seems fired up in each piece using every technique at her disposal to manifest a rich inner world. She speaks of a long hiatus in her working as a painter that is experienced by many who initially start out in adolescence and early adulthood to pursue a creative path. “I fully intended to keep painting when I first became a mother,” She recalls, “but I had to give my complete attention
to raising my children. In my inner world I was an artist, even though I was no longer painting. I was seen by others as a parent and as someone active in the community.”

What Fried did not do was stop looking at art and going to museums; her inner dialogue was kept alive through being in contact with art. What made her want to paint again was seeing all the new art work being made that was “over intellectualized…I wanted to affirm the aesthetics I value that seem ignored in much work today.”

The works by Fried in this show are carefully made and manage that delicate balance between the heat of spontaneity and the coolness of the critical judgment involved in balancing color and composition. Her pictures have a sensuous attack on surface and pictorial space. There is also a use of collage elements, but Fried’s craft is so secure that you often have to look hard to see the edges. Each work is separate in its achievement and what is especially noteworthy is the carefully achieved color. Fried is a terrific colorist, a quality that has to be inborn.

It is the freedom of the painting that triumphs in Fried’s work. In “Glimmer Glass,” there is temerity of purpose. “Secret Garden” is another work that is highly individualized with an exuberance of paint. Fried’s work is a private inner world dared into the light of day.