Category Archives: Explore

Current Exhibition, Explore, Uncategorized

Exploring Reality in Palinopsia

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Palinopsia from April 23 to May 17, 2024 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Ellen Zhang

What is palinopsia? Palinopsia refers to a fascinating visual phenomenon where individuals repeatedly see images even after the original visual stimuli have disappeared. In the exhibition Palinopsia, artists Trevon Jakaar Coleman, Jill Stauffer, Varvara Tokareva, and Margaret Walker offer their unique perspectives on what is real versus seen, inviting visitors to delve into the realm of perception and interpretation.

According to Coleman’s website, his works aim to “challenge expectation, iconography, language, and space, creating a distance that leaves room for inquiry” (http://www.trevonjakaar.com/). In Palinopsia, Coleman’s works draw inspiration from comic books and other non-fiction sources. The alien-like figures and terrain are what make his works particularly captivating. At the same time, there are elements of the real world. For instance, in Untitled Creatures #1-4, videos of natural landscapes are encapsulated by what seem like extraterrestrial beings. By blurring the line between reality and fiction, Coleman challenges the idea of the world we know. Is there more to what is visible to us? Is there another world that we are not capable of seeing? Another way in which Coleman achieves his broader purpose of “leav[ing] room for inquiry” is how he titles his work. All four pieces in Palinopsia begin with “untitled” in their names. This suggests that Coleman wants the viewer to engage in his work actively. He encourages his audience to rely on their individual perception to create meaning from his work rather than setting an expectation for what his work represents via a title. 

Trevon Jakaar Coleman, Untitled Creatures #1-4 (2024), Mixed Media.

Tokareva’s work, in particular, compliments the underlying themes of Coleman’s pieces. What I found most intriguing about her pieces is how she incorporates different AI tools to portray history. Her research delves into the “New East”, utilizing archival visuals “to capture a significant change within society” as described on her website (https://printingmadnessforever.com/). Looking through the eyes of the audience, discerning the extent that the original source materials (from the Olympics) have been manipulated by AI proves challenging, prompting the question of AI’s authenticity. Like Coleman, Tokareva blurs the line between what is real and what isn’t by drawing attention to the unreliability of perception. More specifically, her work reiterates the importance of knowing the source of information. In Utopia III, three TV screens display videos of the Olympic Games in Soviet Moscow in July 1980. To what extent do these AI-generated videos include real elements of the Olympic Games? Can we even distinguish what’s real or not if our perception of the East is biased? Those that view her work, knowing that it incorporates AI, will question the authenticity of the content and walk away without a set opinion. In Tokareva’s work, the line between reality and AI is blurred due to the Western gaze, largely dictated by Western media forms, of what the East was and what it is now. 

Varvara Tokareva, Utopia III (2023-2024), Three-Channel Video on Three Monitors.

Coleman and Tokareva’s works capture the inconsistency of perspective and consequent interpretation by prompting their audience to wonder what is real and what isn’t. In the same way that palinopsia works, their works serve as visual phenomena that merge real and perceived. The significance of doing so is that we, as audience members, are compelled to reconsider our preconceptions and confront the complexities of our visual and ideological perspectives. Through their art, we are pushed to reconsider what we know to be true: our interpretations of space, history, and culture. By challenging our understanding, their art sparks intellectual dialogue while encouraging the exploration and acceptance of diverse perspectives.

Trevon Jakaar Coleman and Varvara Tokareva’s works are included in Palinopsia at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 23 to May 17, 2024. Coleman will be hosting a Analog Projection Workshop with Jill Stauffer April 29, 7-9pm. Tokareva will be hosting a Cyanotype Workshop with Margaret Walker May 7, 3-4pm. Both events are free and open to the public. For more information on Coleman, visit trevonjakaar.com and on Instagram @trevonjakaar. For more information on Tokareva, visit https://printingmadnessforever.com/. For more information on Palinopsia and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery.

Artist Interviews, Current Exhibition, Explore, Uncategorized

Peace in Practice

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Placeholder from October 10, to December 9, 2023, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Trinitee Tatum

“There is enough multitudes in all of us.”

(Richard Hart, 2023)

In our digital age, words like “software” and “hardware” have clear-cut meanings. However, when these words are superimposed and incorporated into the conversation on the relationship between nature and technology, the essence of these “wares” deepens. Preconceptions of the meanings of software and hardware are challenged through their convergence in Richard Hart’s series of “Water Drawings.” In this series, real rocks are placed alongside projections of patterns that emerge and disappear on the rock’s surface. By juxtaposing the “software” of animation to the “hardware” of rock as durable and utilitarian material, Hart exposes time as a third “ware.” The interconnectedness of software, hardware, and “timeware” parallels the dimensionality of humanity through the mind, body, and soul.

Richard Hart, Water drawing (slate and stone), 2020. Image courtesy of the artist.

The South African artist’s works traverse both the digital and physical realms, exploring modernity’s spectral quality. Although he contends with weighty subjects, Hart taps into his easy going personality and creative ethos as he grapples with the Duality of nature technology and the materiality of time. His work exudes a playful quality as patterns dance across the crevices of rocks, conversing with the materials and the artist. Technology has had a profound impact on the natural world in many ways. On one hand, technological advancements have led to renewable energy and sustainable agriculture. On the other hand, the rapid development of technology has led to pollution, deforestation, and climate change. Time will tell what the final outcome of this relationship will be.

“The best work dances around things, points at things very slyly.”

(Richard Hart, 2023)

Hart is ready to face the challenge of dealing with such daunting realities in his artwork, despite there being no satisfying answers. However, Hart’s creative process relies heavily on experimentation and problem-solving skills. Creating this artwork is a demanding task; setting up alone may take hours, and the drawings themselves must be done in one sitting. Despite the intense time constraints, the process is meditative, and Hart can easily get lost in the work. The “Water Drawings” offer a respite in a chaotic world.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/CkCjBi9Abvs/?igshid=MTRoang3N2x1ZTM2dg%3D%3D
Richard Hart, Water drawing (2022). Video courtesy of the artist.

The concept of placehood is crucial in location-based art like this series. Many of the larger rocks require on-site work, either in nature or on the sides of buildings. Even the “Water Drawings” done in the studio are influenced by place. The artist’s work is greatly influenced by his home country, South Africa, but his move to New York has introduced another sense of place and initiated a conversation about one’s place in the world. While transitioning from Africa to America, Hart had to adapt to a new culture and environment different from his own. He also had to consider that his audience may view his work differently than he does.

“Place is the whole thing. It is where the whole thing is situated.”

(Richard Hart, 2023)

Reflecting on one’s sense of placehood has never seemed more important or relevant than when facing the complex and interconnected issues that challenge our current state of global affairs. In the face of crisis, the value of preserving and cultivating the unique identity and cultural significance of a place is imperative. In safeguarding our local identities, cultures, and environments, we create a more resilient, inclusive, and sustainable world.

Richard Hart’s work is included in Placeholder at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from October 10 to December 9, 2023. 

  • For more information on Richard Hart, visit https://www.instagram.com/richardhartstudio/.
Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP), Current Exhibition, Explore, Uncategorized

The clock strikes Infertile:  Gabriela Vainsencher’s Hourglass

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What We Do After from August 28 to September 30, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Reshma Jasmin

*Note: this post refers to womanhood and motherhood in a cis-normative manner due to the organ-centric focus of aging*

In the past three months, my father has brought up the topic of marriage, babies, and my biological clock three times—I am a 21-year-old college student. He likened my ova as the fruits of a mango tree: after it reaches its fruit bearing age, the best mangoes are those produced in the first three years. Ironically, I have endometriosis, so the question of fertility is up in the air.

Gabriela Vainsencher’s Hourglass emanates this anxiety, by creating the anatomy of a cervix in the shape of an hourglass, with menstrual blood slipping through the cervix like sand. But Vainsencher’s experience differs from mine, which makes sense as she is 20 years older, an established artist, and a mother. She is also a cis-woman who went through pregnancy and labor for her own biological daughter, and she depicts womanhood and motherhood within the realm of her personal experience. So the impending midnight strike of a biological clock means something entirely different for her than it does for me. 

Gabriela Vainsencher, Mom, 2021. Porcelain. 8 x 12 feet

Most of Vainsencher’s recent work focuses on the experiences of motherhood, notably Mom (2021) (pictured above). She describes the piece as “…a self-portrait inspired by living through the covid-19 pandemic, which started when my daughter was one year old. For over a year I cared for her, worked from home, and couldn’t get to my studio” (sourced from artist’s website). The large porcelain piece depicts a snake-like figure of arms and breasts doing various motherly tasks. The breasts are arguably what makes the biggest impact. Their literal function is to provide milk, and whether mothers use formula or breastmilk, the symbolism still stands: motherhood is allowing your nutrients to be sucked out of you, or in more palatable terms, giving up yourself for your child. While all the arms are occupied with various motherly tasks like cooking, shopping, cleaning, carrying a child, etc., there are just as many  breasts as there are arms, even though breasts only serve one main function in motherhood. Although there is also the long haired head at one end of the figure and the title to distinguish that the figure is a woman, a mother, the abundance of breasts hint at what else society demands of mothers: women who maintain their role as pretty sexual objects.

Mother Figure Series Sculptures (2021-ongoing) Porcelain, stoneware, underglaze, etc.

Vainsencher’s Mother Figure Series Sculptures (pictured above) depicts worried mothers, pregnant bellies, female anatomy, and the looming biological clock. The stretched, protruding bellies and the folds of skin on the backs of each torso show the toll of pregnancy on the body. The sagging breast depicts the loss of conventional beauty and youth that comes with age and motherhood. The key-chain earrings on oversized ears suggests that mothers are always in motion, always thinking about their children’s needs and schedules.

Gabriela Vainsencher, Hourglass, 2023. Porcelain, underglaze, glaze, acrylic

Upon seeing Gabriella Vainsencher’s Hourglass (pictured above), my first thought was, “How is this mounted on the wall?” Granted, I was watching the early stages of its installation in the Stamp Gallery, and the piece is made of porcelain and glaze, so it seemed a bit delicate to be held up the way that it is (on two screws drilled through the porcelain). In my surprise at how securely the piece was mounted, I realized that my assumption about the fragility and “weakness” of the porcelain was similar to the societal perception of women as the “weaker sex.” But the curved lines of the stretchy maternity pants on the conflated pregnant bellies from Vainsencher’s Mother Figure Series Sculptures and the bulges with the same curved lines tell a different story: they resemble striated muscles, signifying the strength written into a mother’s body.

The muscle-like bulges also create the hourglass shape, and lead the eye to the center of the piece, the cervix. The transition from the warm, cozy golden brown of the uterus to the dark dried period blood of the vaginal canal resembles the passage of time and a movement from comfort to discomfort. This gradient coupled with the rock-like shapes in the two halves of the hourglass shape depict the pain of aging; each period brings one closer to menopause, and the hourglass figure of a conventionally beautiful woman is also lost with time. Simply put, in our culture, old women are not pretty. The biological clock is a term coined by men to describe how a woman’s fertility is headed towards the precarious cliff of the age of 30 and later at menopause, but it also describes the anxieties of women where their worth and standing in society hangs in the balance of their beauty and fertility. 

The rock-like forms passing through the hourglass resonate with me, as periods and ovulation involve immense pain due to endometriosis. And, despite not being a mother, nor subscribing entirely to the identity of woman, nor intending to experience pregnancy and have a biological child; the fear of losing fertility and youth translating to the loss of beauty and worth is an anxiety I share in my own experience. With Hourglass, Vainsencher depicts the universal fear of aging, unique to those who identify as women and have female sex organs, as being built into our bodies as a ticking biological clock, a constant reminder of our fears and strength and worth. 

Gabriela Vainsencher’s work is included in What We Do After at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from August 28 to September 30, 2023. 

For more information on Gabriela Vainsencher visit https://gabrielavainsencher.com/

For more information on What We Do After, and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery

For more information about the Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP) visit: https://stamp.umd.edu/centers/stamp_gallery/contemporary_art_collection

Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP), Current Exhibition, Explore, Uncategorized

Together: A Blackness of Multitudes

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What We Do After from August 28 to September 30, 2023, at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Trinitee Tatum

There is hardly a passerby that is not entranced by Megan Lewis’ Together. The regal size and bold color palette beckons onlookers to step into the striking world of Lewis’ portrait, where she grapples with her varied emotions and experiences as a Black woman. Viewers are encouraged to discover the multiplicity of Blackness alongside Lewis.

Megan Lewis, Together (2021), Oil and acrylic on canvas.

The painting’s title, Together, speaks to community empowerment through inclusion. The art industry has been historically exclusive in its subject matter and artists. Many artists of color struggle with the industry’s tokenization and exploitation of their image. Through Together, Lewis calls for equal opportunity to create art without subjugation to these hardships. She reclaims her own narrative and image that has historically been defined for her, for Black people. 

Blackness alone is enough to be extraordinary, to be striking. But Lewis does not stop at this in her work. She situates Blackness within the historically white context of portraiture, where subjects are presented in a predictable manner, with robes of satin and velvet. They are noblemen and women, lords and ladies, those whose wealth and power is reflected in their clothing. In Together, Lewis’ subject contrasts this convention in a striking yellow shirt with dynamic red circles and true blue bottoms. The subject, positioned in a typical manner– straight back, outward glaze, delicately folded hand–is anything but ordinary, with the hands painted in bubblegum pink with teal green nails. Lewis’ choice to depict hands in this manner highlights the sitter’s face as the sole literal representation of Blackness. The subject’s face, and more specifically her eyes, draws viewers into her inner being beyond her skin color. If eyes are the window to the soul, then Lewis’ technicolored portrait is the window into hers.

Together demonstrates to the audience that Blackness is not black. It’s pink and orange with a dash of blue and a swipe of red. Her strokes challenge notions that Blackness is monolithic, homogeneous. She draws Blackness out of the shadows of art history and into the light. Her strategic use of colors, including the contrasting orange background with blue leaves that frame the subject, is perhaps an assertion of her knowledge of art and color theory. Orange and blue are complementary colors on the color wheel and enhance each other’s intensity when juxtaposed. Lewis’ use of both acrylic and oil paint speaks to her mastery of both mediums. Artists of color are consistently invalidated and questioned on their knowledge and application of art history, theory, and practice. Through Together, Lewis shuts down any lingering questions about her abilities as an impactful and informative artist. 

Megan Lewis’ work is included in What We Do After at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from August 28 to September 30, 2023. 

Artist Interviews, Contemporary Art Purchasing Program (CAPP), Current Exhibition, Explore

Mentorship Behind the Making of The Royal Blue Series (and more from the series)

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What We Do After from August 28 to October 6, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Isabella Chilcoat

“Life is about give and give, not give and take.”

Beverly Price
(Beverly Price, conversation between the artist and the author on 9/12/2023).

There’s something about Beverly Price’s Royal Blue Series that takes the photographs beyond the wall. Judging from the insights Price shared this past February, during the CAPP cohort’s visit to the community focused artist residency program, the Nicholson Project, as well as recent discussions we’ve had, it is clear that the Royal Blue Series is significant for its impact on the subjects and the awareness it draws to DC neighborhoods. 

Born and raised in Washington, D.C., Beverly Price has centered her art practice  and her education so far within the D.M.V. area. The artist studied business, organizational leadership and liberal arts at Georgetown University, and later, she completed a Master of Fine Arts in photographic and electronic media at Maryland Institute College of Art. She has exhibited and featured works at the National Museum of Women in the Arts (museum shop), Anacostia Art Center, Maryland Institute College of Art, American University, Virginia Commonwealth University, and more (courtesy of the artist’s website). 

Price’s career as both an artist and an activist hold firm roots within youth and community advocacy and involvement. Over the last five years, she has served in a variety of agencies and institutions throughout Baltimore City and her home, Washington D.C., as an empathetic educator and resident artist. You could trace her footprints to the American University, the Latin American Youth Center, Forest Park High School (Baltimore), and Charles Hart Middle School (Washington, D.C.) to name a few. Furthermore, Price instructed a Teen Residency Workshop Series at The Nicholson Project, where she was also an artist in residence until March of 2023 (courtesy of the artist’s website).

Price’s fervent investment in D.C. communities, observable in her Royal Blue Series, stems from her own experiences with loss of innocence and its impact on her life. In 2002, Price was sentenced to five years in prison as a senior in high school. When she returned home from prison at age 23, she decided to dedicate her life and her art practice to her continued growth and to the benefit of her community (courtesy of the artist’s website). Describing her experience teaching and working with youth in D.C. neighborhoods, she said, “life is about give and give… not give and take.” She expressed how giving is a key takeaway she wants to leave with younger generations, especially in underserved communities.

The Royal Blue Series dives into the heart of a D.C. neighborhood to demonstrate not only how children are directly affected by cycles of violence, but also how art can channel those experiences into healing with the opportunity for restoration and compensation. Price set out to explore adolescence and Black boys’ experiences growing up in D.C. at the onset of the project, and found motivation in uncovering ways to protect the innocence of Black boys in America. To create this series, Price collaborated with a group of adolescent boys in 2019, facing the aftermath of a murder of their brother and friend, 11-year-old Karon Brown. In the wake of this trauma, Price photographed the boys playing and hanging out – gathering in shared spaces like the playground. While building a relationship with them and taking their photos, Price also compensated the boys for their participation.

In Long Live Baby K, 2019, the child on the left is seen wearing a shirt in remembrance of Karon Brown. 2022 Silver Gelatin Print (Pearl), 11x14in. (courtesy of the artist’s website)

Price emphasized that she wants to show the boys that they can and will be compensated for their work in the art world. She hopes to impart on them that creative work, especially photography, can be an alternative source of income in addition to being a creative outlet as they work through their emotions. 

Accordingly, on one of her 2022 visits with the (now) teenage boys, she spent a day teaching them how to take photos and letting them use her camera to photograph each other. Over the course of the Royal Blue Series’ movement through exhibitions, art collections, publications, Price has endeavored to share this journey with the boys however she can, and to be a resource to her young collaborators in their creative development. The series photograph, Ray, 2022, depicts one of the children handling Price’s camera and peering into the lens. 

In Ray, 2022, The adolescent boy (left) is seen handling Price’s camera and peering into the lens. 2022 Silver gelatin print (pearl), 11x14in. (courtesy of the artist’s website)

Price is finding ways to keep the next generation’s attention by sharing creative practices that can engage emotions while generating an income stream. Now, when I view Price’s photography, I am hearing her voice play in my head, “give and give…not give and take.”

–

Beverly Price’s work is included in What We Do After at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from August 28  to October 6, 2022.

–

RESOURCE(S):

  1. Price, Beverly, “Meet Beverly,” 2023. Artist Website, 2023. https://www.beverlypricephoto.com/royal-blue-the-essence-of-innocence 
  2. Price Beverly, “The Royal Blue Series (The Essence of Innocence), 2022. Artist Website, 2023. https://www.beverlypricephoto.com/royal-blue-the-essence-of-innocence 
  3. Price/Chilcoat Discussion, September 12, 2023.
  4. Artist Talk with Beverly Price for CAPP, at the Nicholson Project, February 2023.
Comment, Current Exhibition, Explore

OPEN CALL: Redefining Beauty After Human Asexual Reproduction

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LIMBSHIFT from April 20th to May, 19th 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Isabella Chilcoat

Beauty exists in every age of human history. Classically, “beauty consists of an arrangement of integral parts into a coherent whole, according to proportion, harmony, symmetry, and similar notions” (Sartwell, 2022). By this metric, where there is harmony, a divine order, or a mathematical formula for aesthetic proportion, there is beauty. In every monumental human transition, humanity follows or creates beauty. Philosophy fails to provide a concrete answer that encapsulates the entirety of what beauty is, though. Therefore, beauty is a fluid thing, neither wholly subjective nor wholly objective. But when a new order appears, what is beauty, what becomes beautiful? 

The Stamp Gallery’s exhibition, LIMBSHIFT, is not only contemplative on beauty, it is challenging.

LIMBSHIFT features two second-year University of Maryland MFA candidates’ mixed media, multi-dimensional artworks that highlight the capacities of the human body and its limitations. One of the artists, Dan Ortiz Leizman, grafts emerging AI technology to tactile mixed media. Through their art, they hypothesize the possibilities of human asexual reproduction in the aftermath of nuclear destruction. Ortiz Leizman’s projections obliterate the present framework for gender, sex, and social identities, leaving open the space for considering beauty in an alternative landscape. In this hypothetical, asexual reproduction carries specific Darwinian hopes for eliminating some genetic diseases, altering public health, and mitigating gender discrimination (Jose de Carli, 2017). But while asexual reproduction eliminates a significant physical divide between people, it erodes individuality by limiting the gene pool in future generations. 

Imagine that there is no longer male or female, only human. There is no more variation in appearance as there is no more variation in ability. There is a new sense of sameness in reproductive ability which extinguishes distinctions in physical appearance. 

There is a new order to physiology, a new formula for evolution. Traditional sexual reproduction becoming obsolete means stripping “being sexualized” from the standard of beauty because there is no need for it. This dawn of asexual reproduction calls for a reconsideration of beauty from how it looks to how it feels, how it sounds, how it operates. How is it recognized? Moving away from the physical body and from reproduction, beauty can exist on an abstracted plane unencumbered by corrupt standards or social doctrine. Beauty detached from sexualization, objectification, and gender is open and free to shift into a new meaning. 

Beauty detached from sexualization, objectification, and gender is open and free to shift into a new meaning. 

—

Dan Ortiz Leizman’s work is included in LIMBSHIFT at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from April 20th to May 19th, 2023. For more information on Dan Ortiz Leizman, visit https://www.danortizleizman.com/. For more information on LIMBSHIFT and related events, visit https://stamp.umd.edu/articles/stamp_gallery_presents_limbshift.

Resources: 

  • Gabriel Jose de Carli, Tiago Campos Pereira, On human Parthenogenesis, Medical Hypotheses, Volume 106, 2017, Pages 57-60, ISSN 0306-9877, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.mehy.2017.07.008.
  • Sartwell, Crispin, “Beauty”, The Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Summer 2022 Edition), Edward N. Zalta (ed.), https://plato.stanford.edu/archives/sum2022/entries/beauty/.
Current Exhibition, Explore

Unfolding Ventilated Workwear by HH Hiaasen

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UNFOLD from January 30 to April 1, 2023 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Ellen Zhang

In the Stamp Gallery’s current exhibition UNFOLD, HH Hiaasen has graced the walls with their collection of Ventilated Workwear. For the first time, these uniforms have been displayed off the body and, instead, on two peg boards typically found in toolsheds. Simultaneously, the displayed Tyvek suit, coveralls, gloves, ear plugs, face mask, and goggles have transformed from “garments” to “tools.” By doing so, Hiaasen opens a new door for their audience to observe and ponder their art. 

When looking at Hiaasen’s artwork, some interesting observations can be made. Rather than imitating the appearance of tools, Hiaasen uses actual objects typically found in a toolshed. By following a uniform grid pattern, Hiaasen has hand-cut most pieces, which leaves little “garment” left. Each garment is then traced with a black outline, containing each object in its own space. As Hiaasen explains, the rectangular cut-outs also represent a “standardized mode of containment.” Despite the underlying meaning behind the pattern of choice, there is less containing and more opening. Through those openings, the audience gets a greater view of the pegboard, which enforces how these garments should be explicated as tools. Since most of the pieces on display were created between 2016 and 2019, the edges of the cutouts have also become frayed. This can be best seen in the denim GRIDsuit. Since the project’s inception in 2018, the GRIDsuits have been worn for display, leading to apparent wear and tear. Microthreads of denim poke out from all directions, marring the appearance of the standardized rectangles. 

HH Hiaasen, Ventilated Workwear: GRIDsuit, 2018. Hand-cut coveralls.

Hiaasen’s deliberate usage of empty space, pattern, and time tie into a broader message of their own “experiment in queer survival.” Due to the rectangular cut-outs, the tools lose their prescribed purpose of protecting the wearer. Take the GRIDgoggles for example. What is supposed to be a tool that protects the eyes becomes a mere ornament that exposes the wearer to surrounding danger. In other words, when tools deviate from their conventional purpose, the wearer feels vulnerable. While not explicitly expressed by the artist or the artwork, this could be indicative of how dangerous conformity is. Conventional definitions of gender and sexual orientation are most often binary and straight. This singles out individuals who don’t identify with these conventions, making them feel defenseless to social isolation, discrimination, and much more. As seen in the wear and tear of the GRIDsuits, time plays an important role in exacerbating this issue. As conformity continues to draw its power from numbers, the exposure to these encircling risks is heightened. 

Garments that serve as protective gear can also “contain” the wearer. As garments diminish, there is greater visibility for the wearer. This effect could also enable the wearer to better express themselves. However, the separation between self and other is still stark. As the black outline of each piece suggests, the wearer is subject to their own space. Even as clothing loses its purpose of protecting or containing, the isolation of the wearer remains stagnant as ever. 

What’s interesting is the vehicle HH Hiaasen has chosen to embody this message. By displaying the garments as tools in a toolshed, Hiaasen’s work is able to express a dual purpose of protecting and containing. Rather than using garments as a whole, Hiaasen takes a specific type of clothing—protective gear—to convey their message. 

Hiaasen’s work delves into the connection between self and other. In exploring this connection, their work touches on conformity and queerness, and how these two subjects interact with each other. As a result, Hiaasen has truly explored the possibility of garments beyond their conventional manner, thus unfolding the layers of meaning we would have never imagined.  

UNFOLD will be on view in The Stamp Gallery at the University of Maryland, College Park from January 30 through April 1, 2023. For more information on HH Hiaasen and their work, visit https://www.studio-hh.com/HH.

Comment, Current Exhibition, Explore

A Reflection to Remember: Teach Me How to Love This World

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Teach Me How to Love This World from October 19 to December 10, 2022 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Ellen Zhang

Bold red streaks, ominous ringing, whirrings of rotating projector shutters… each piece in Teach Me How to Love This World plays an integral part in illustrating a past, present, and future world grappling with violence and peace. What I like about Kei Ito’s work is that it’s direct and straightforward without undermining its complexities. As a viewer, I am amazed by how he has balanced artistic choices, abstract themes (like the meaning of peace), and the factuality of the impacts of nuclear war. Together, these three elements create the necessary experience of being caught off guard that precedes a stage of reflection. 

Stepping foot into this exhibition for the very first time, the piece that caught my attention was Teach Me How to Love This World: Sacrifice. The immediate appearance of a blood-red peace sign dripping down the canvas is jarring, intimidating, and contradicting. The perception of tranquility, from the peace symbol, is intruded by the blood-red color, enhancing Ito’s message that peace doesn’t come without fatal sacrifice. Ito reflects the destructive nature of war weapons through artistic choices that don’t sugarcoat and, instead, speak volumes on how nuclear war is a source of fear and intimidation. For those that are conflict-avoidant like me, an initial glimpse is enough to instill a sense of trepidation and uneasiness. 

Kei Ito, Teach Me How to Love This World: Sacrifice, 2022. Unprimed canvas, spray paint, print on aluminum dibond, 36x48x3 in.

The question of “whose peace, whose sacrifice” splattered across the top and bottom of the canvas adds to the power of the piece. It’s a transparent move that introduces perplexing questions between humanity and war, unlike the sanitized version we often get from the mainstream media. By proposing the question of “whose peace, whose sacrifice,” Ito also eases the viewer into a stage of reflection: Who are the victims of nuclear war? Who benefits from it? Is there even a clear distinction between the two or are we all unknowing victims of nuclear war? While I haven’t found the answers to these questions, I appreciate how Ito’s work is centralized in questions rather than statements. Nothing is definitive and, perhaps, this is on purpose. Ito breaks the stigma of reflecting on war by encouraging us, the viewers, to weigh on an integral theme of conflict: someone’s peace is brought through someone else’s suffering. During Ito’s artist talk, he even encouraged his audience to consider everyday life through the lens of sacrifice, war, and peace. For example, he mentioned how fast fashion is one of many suppressed examples of those benefiting from another’s exploitation. 

Situated in the center of the canvas is an inverted photograph of a goat receiving a blood transfusion by three masked doctors. Here, Ito adds additional layers of identity, fact, and questioning. The presence of a goat pays homage to the significance of animals ingrained in Japanese culture. At the same time, the photograph is rooted in factual evidence that depicts the devastating effects of atomic bomb testing. The original photograph was taken by George Skadding in 1947 and captures the moment when a goat, exposed to radiation from an A-bomb test on Bikini Atoll Island, receives a blood transfusion as it lies strapped to a surgical table at the Bethesda Naval Medical Research Institute, MD. Reflecting on the photo with its historical backdrop in mind subjects the viewer to numerous questions: Why did Ito choose a historical moment that took place in Maryland? Why is the photograph placed where it is? Why is it inverted? With no answers in plain sight, we are encouraged to ponder the artistic choices Ito has made. To me, Teach Me How to Love This World: Sacrifice is a piece that embodies reflection. And quite literally, the contents on the canvas are mirrored, portraying the interdependent relationship between those who enjoy peace and those who sacrifice. At the same time, the viewers can reflect on how power and politics determine who is impacted by war. The photograph alone is a testament to how some, if not all, can have their peace stripped from them at any given moment and with no say at all. 

Despite the way Ito explores the dichotomy between peace and war, his exhibition is certainly not despairing in nature. By balancing the factual and the abstract, he breaks the silence on taboo subjects and builds fruitful conversations, open to anyone regardless of their background, belief systems, and ideas. Ito brings a sense of vulnerability into the gallery, graciously inviting us to explore, and prompting reflections to remember. 

Teach Me How to Love This World: Kei Ito will be on view in The Stamp Gallery at the University of Maryland, College Park from October 19 through December 10, 2022. For more information on Kei Ito and his work, visit http://www.kei-ito.com/.

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Teach Me How to Love Myself

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Teach Me How to Love This World from October 19  to December 10, 2022  at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Isabella Chilcoat

My typical approach to articulating each exhibition by the Stamp Gallery over the past year and a half has involved a level of formal artistic analysis and critique. However Teach Me How to Love This World: Kei Ito plucked a chord in my being that I feel calls for a more intimate reading. Ito’s current solo exhibition manifests not only a physical presence, but also a profound psychological phenomenon of deep empathy and contemplation. His works plunge my own mind into an abyss of chilling curiosity – they cast a red-hued light of extrospection on my own inner tribulations. Themes of generational trauma, visible and invisible wounds, violence, destruction, rebirth, and peace radiate from the six works on view, and each piece contains a piercing capacity to connect its viewer with a larger history surrounding them. Ito’s work certainly has prompted me to deepen my inward self-exploration as it connects to generational wounds that bleed into my present.

Aptly titled, Into the Abyss (2022), a unique C-Print of sunlight developed film, hangs on the Gallery’s entrance wall, a rectangular plate of aluminum dibond emblazoned with blood-red word pairings against its smooth black surface. The text couples a pronoun and a noun, pronoun + noun, pronoun + noun, pronoun + noun… endlessly in columns that eventually obscure toward the bottom. These groupings compose a solemn poetry to ponder while sojourning through and beyond the gallery walls with phrases pertaining to: “their + war,” “his + war,” “his + weapons,” “your + weapons,” “your + peace.” With a repetition that references an obsessive compulsive sequence of words, Into the Abyss forces me to recall my own journey through healing the consequences of generational trauma.

Kei Ito, Into the Abyss, 2022. Unique C-Print film mounted on aluminum dibond, laminate, 40x32x1 in.

Though different circumstances, Ito’s encapsulation of heirloom agony, or legacies of passed down emotional damages, is something that resonates in a myriad of settings yet lacks the recognition and understanding it deserves. I particularly love this print because it echoes a period in my early childhood where I would repeat a list of the same, completely arbitrary “safe” phrases in instances of high anxiety in a set numerical quantity. As a child the specific recitation of my “safe” words calmed my autonomic nervous system as an act of defense in a situation in which I felt my safety or autonomy was compromised. In retrospect of more than fifteen years (and with professionally guided coping strategies) I can still remember my “safe” phrases – no longer with a feeling of desperate relief, but a feeling of grief for a waning childhood of which I had little concept at the time and a stronger desire to console my child self and restore a sense of security. Ito’s phrases, while clearly intentionally correlated, illustrate the sequences of inner thoughts in an ordered but increasingly blurry image synonymous with memory. Memories of my “safe” words, survival mechanisms, and certain traumatic instances of my life flicker through my mind like an orderly reel of film or text until the clarity vanishes in a manner similar to the visual qualities of Into the Abyss and other works in the Stamp Gallery, including a dual Kodak slide projection piece titled Teach Me How to Love This World (2022), in which the same pronoun + noun couples project on the wall.

Kei Ito, Teach Me How to Love This World, 2022. 35mm slide, Kodak carousel projectors.

Ito’s exhibition has offered a narrative and a solidarity to trauma by employing the acute dichotomy between war and peace. His work in the gallery also translates the severity of war and of peace individually. If I relate these concepts to my own journey with mental health I can visualize how my mind and my body have at times existed at war with one another, both seeking the same peace from trauma, but disconnected. The lack of harmony enables a cascade of conflict, confusion, and fear. Being at war with the self or warring (in survival mode) against a harmful situation unfolds in a complex manner, especially if that trauma is carried through multiple generations. The devastations of war can bare themselves physically, but often, as the scars fade, the invisible wounds, emotional traumas, anxiety, trauma-induced ADHD, PTSD, and cPTSD rage more severely. The sinister aftermath of battle (both literal and metaphorical), when the dust has settled, too often leaves the survivor’s remaining injuries unrecognized, unfinished, on the inside, and sometimes resurfacing as panic attacks, racing heart rates, an urge to flee—the list goes on. There is seldom peace immediately after a trauma. Without proper time and care for wounds to heal, injuries can fester and compound. War and peace are not black and white; the space between is easier to leave hidden, but that gray space is also the only ground for true healing. The path to peace can take generations, making “peace” no easy feat. Accordingly, some of the world’s best efforts at “keeping the peace” do little more than apply palliative bandages after onslaughts of violence to cover a deadly (unsightly) injury. 

Occupying the floor with ash on a panel of wood, Riddle of Peace/War (2022-ongoing) considers these layered topics by questioning who will ultimately be sacrificed for either “war” or “peace.” A misconstrued conception of the means by which to secure peace tips a violent scale for which humanity will always pay the price. Additionally, the individual handling of “war” and “peace” can also stand as a microcosm for the global struggle. Seeking peace internally can create desperation as it does within larger politics with fear and anxiety at their core. This desperation, anxiety, and fear screams, “seek peace BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.” However, speaking from the individual level, I have only been able to grasp authentic peace within myself through a place of care and unconditional love for the covered parts of myself deemed unfit to express in the open. Releasing blame, shame, and fear and growing in empathy for the parts of myself and my childhood that I was conditioned to keep hidden have been the only ways to work through the traumas in my own story and continue growing from a stronger foundation. Aptly constructing and simultaneously destroying the distinctions between “war” and “peace,” Ito’s exhibition demonstrates the necessity of considering life from multiple angles and reveals that nothing is truly black and white. Furthermore, my “path to peace” is an evolving effort, but at its center I have been learning to remove the shame in an effort to understand all parts of myself, just as Ito removes shaming from his exhibition for those who inflict violence in their efforts for “peace” recalled in his works. Even the title of the exhibition, Teach Me How to Love This World, acts as a macro glance for the core requisite of my inner healing, which could read: Teach Me How to Love Myself. 

Kei Ito, Riddle of Peace/War, 2022-ongoing. Ash, wooden platform.

Though somber, Ito’s exhibition is not hopeless. On the contrary, his work is full of hope. Nothing difficult disappears by ignoring it; peace is not possible without confronting daunting realities and pushing through them with eyes and heart wide open. Ito’s work does just that. It is bearing the face of questions the world is afraid to ask, and bravely calling for healing in the gray areas. If nothing else, Teach Me How to Love This World has inspired a level of self-reflection and further affirmation of the importance of empathy and love toward myself and in confronting the world around me. Ito’s exhibition implores, “teach me how to love this world.” I suggest that a place to start is learning how to love ourselves.

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Kei Ito’s work is included in Teach Me How to Love This World at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from October 19 – December 10, 2022. 

For more information on Kei ito, visit http://www.kei-ito.com/.

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An Introduction to Hae Won Sohn’s Solo Exhibition; Humbled by Unspoken Volumes

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Unspoken Volumes from August 29 to October 8, 2022 at The Stamp Gallery | University of Maryland, College Park | Written by Isabella Chilcoat

Hae Won Sohn, a New York-based artist and craftswoman, has graced the Stamp Gallery with a new art presence that straddles the unspoken and the overlooked crevices between shape, color, and space. Dovetailing three-dimensional objects and multimedia work, Sohn’s minimalist creations consume the gallery’s white walls in a breathy pastel mirage that I desperately want to consume. I cannot describe her palette better than melted ice cream colors complete with an offering that ranges from neapolitan to mint chip. After visiting this exhibition viewers will leave wanting at least two scoops. 

Hae Won Sohn, chocolate milk cow milk, 2022. Plaster and oxide pigment. Currently on loan at the Stamp Gallery, College Park, MD.

But the real scoop is better than everyone’s favorite creamy delight. Take chocolate milk cow milk, 2022: Made of plaster and milk chocolatey brown oxide pigments, this triptych (collection of three) and a half cast sculpture set blooms from the gallery’s main wall. Parallel to the exterior windows, chocolate milk cow milk is visible to any person perusing the hallway, but it is worth moving closer. From a more intimate distance, one can examine the swirled pigments within each object’s silky crescent surface. Chocolate milk cow milk exemplifies Sohn’s conception of “burry objects,” a phenomenon she describes as both a “physical and metaphorical quality of [her] work in [her] vision which occurs as a result of exploring and adjusting distances through(out) time.” None of her works are detached from their origin, process, or the space they occupy. Accordingly, each of the works in Unspoken Volumes encompasses the cooperation of every contributing source which ensured the presence of the objects in the room. This includes the personal and the material antecedents that work together to make her art making possible – initial inspiration, the sources of material, molds, media, availability of exhibition space, reception of the work, and individual response to name a few. Through an appreciation of each work’s origins coupled with the present viewing moment, Sohn’s art grows in complexity while appearing as a simple form. In essence, the space feels complete. Her art is so inclusive to process and presence that walking into the gallery translates a deep calm or inner satisfaction. 

” Some ideas and forms seem to become clearer in the blur. This perhaps happens from my
understanding of blurriness to being more embracing of intrusions and embodying higher
potential and energy compared to what appears to be more defined. “

Sohn, unspoken volumes artist statement, 2022.

An all-encompassing blurriness arises through observation of Unspoken Volumes from a macro and micro perspective. The space as a whole breathes as if every object pumps in a synchronized heartbeat while the individual pieces still emit a cadence of their own. I can relate to the idea of blurriness in my own attempts to grasp the origins of each piece of art and my present interpretation at the same time. These lines of comprehension become fuzzy the harder I ponder over one of Sohn’s smooth sculpture surfaces and the shadows cast between objects in a set. I am overwhelmed by the compositions Sohn has crafted through fundamental art elements juxtaposed with their conceptual depths that exceed the places from where I stand to observe them. Even the best images fail to capture the multitudes Sohn’s works contain; something as simple as an alteration to lighting or angle of viewing reveals a whole new landscape for each piece. I argue the modesty of abstracted forms alone attests to the beauty of contemporary art as a whole, and Unspoken Volumes is no exception.

various angles of Sohn’s chocolate milk cow milk, 2022, in the Stamp Gallery

Come visit the Stamp Gallery to explore this existential landscape cast by Unspoken Volumes for yourself, and tune in to hear from the artist herself on Thursday, Sep 8, 2022 during her artist talk in the space from 6:30-8:00 pm.

Hae Won Sohn’s work is included in Unspoken Volumes at The Stamp Gallery of the University of Maryland, College Park, from August 29 to October 8, 2022.

Sohn will deliver an artist talk on Unspoken Volumes in the Gallery on September 8, 2022, 6:30-8:00pm. For more information on Hae Won Sohn, visit https://haewonsohn.com .