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no[W]here

Kevin Yates’s own sculptures are strange objects disassociated from narrative that dangle in exhibition spaces: small, dead figures abandoned on the floor; a tiny woman seated on a picnic table, facing the wall; the cast of a tree trunk removed from the forest and left hollow. He explores the associative character of objects that are removed from surroundings and context.

In “no[W]here,” Yates puts his own practice aside to curate a group exhibition that explores landscape from a contemporary angle that emphasizes the object-ness of other artists’ approaches. As the title indicates, the settings in these paintings, sculptures and drawings are selectively nondescript—familiar places, yet alien.

Laura Vandenburgh’s delicate works on paper trace curvaceous forms in the landscape, referencing coastal plains, construction sites, canyons and reservoirs. She explores, from both macro- and microcosmic perspectives, the spaces where the borders between land and water interact and affect each other.

Amanda Wojick’s loose, organically shaped sculptures are crafted with straight pins, Band- Aids, linoleum, foam and thread, and somehow seem to grow into geological formations. The Band-Aids’ porous, skin-like texture is cleverly suited to the creation of the tiny amoeba-like objects that dot the surface of her work. The sculptures are like newborn landforms, dotted with tiny specks of beginning life.

Donovan Barrow’s paintings depict collapsed architectural maquettes. The soaked, flimsy cardboard- and-paper models have crumpled under the weight of their making. As structures, they are simultaneously failures to translate an architectural vision and seductive sculptural forms. They are painted in crisp, smooth spray enamel, in clever contrast to the apparent laziness of the still lifes they depict.

Marcy Adzich’s sculpted forms lie somewhere between sculpture and scale models for surreal stage sets. Periphery, for example, is literally the end of the road: a slice of roadway juts around a cliff edge, guided by a fence that careens off into space. In another, a swimming pool or reservoir is overlooked by an impossibly high lifeguard chair. The works are like absurdly comic offshoots of reality.

Put these individual practices together and they feed off one another’s energies. There is playfulness in the works, set against the strange and unknown character of the contemporary local landscape. The similarities among them are clear and run like currents through the gallery space. Yates has orchestrated a balance of sameness and distinctness that puts one in mind of a collective practice. It’s a thoughtful approach that links the fundamental interests of each artist—a planned dynamic not unlike carefully selecting guests for a dinner party. An obvious approach, one might think, but the exhibition is a reminder that it’s not attempted as often as it could be.

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