Mary Qian: "Dayton Street"
More images of the show have been posted here
Mary Qian’s “Dayton Street” is the first painting you see when entering this show. It’s also one of the best realist paintings recently made in Chicago. In the background, people are walking, driving, or biking down a busy street. In the foreground, a tall, Latino man with shoulder length hair is staring at a point somewhere above the viewer’s head. With eyes wide open, and expression calm and determined, he is apparently having a vision. The strong triangular composition gives that vision the gravitas of a religious icon. The neighborhood is vibrant, congested, and youthful, while Willis Tower in the hazy distance identifies the city as Chicago. These are not the mean streets that might relate to a discourse on social justice. Nor are they the beautiful streets that might celebrate the pleasures of urban life. The street is orderly in that everyone is following the rules of traffic. Visually, however, it has the chaos of arbitrary placement ,a jittery sense of space and a hint of anxiety. All that makes this view beautiful is the man depicted in front. Not that his face or clothes are especially attractive – but there is a beautiful spirit shining out from his eyes. You might call this a romantic realism that is more sentimental about the future than the past.
Qian’s other portraits, usually just a head and shoulders, also pursue a truth that is earthbound as well as spiritual. Skillful drawing projects the volumes of the skull and the fleshiness of features like the lips and nose. Yet even more, the design projects the spirit of the person depicted. They don’t seem to be extraordinary individuals – but neither do they appear depraved, ridiculous, demented, or banal. Each has a unique character. All other qualities of paint or model are secondary. A more expansive cityscape fills the background of “Above”, and again the person in the foreground is looking upwards in a pensive way. The light breaking through the clouds intensifies the dramatic effect – as if this woman had overcome many obstacles and was courageously pursuing her dream. She’s young and handsome, and appears to be African American – but all that seems incidental to the strength of her spirit. This is Rembrandt's legacy in portraiture: painting the soul while making the body just realistic enough to convince you that such a person actually exists. A double portrait of a mother and child is less successful. This time, the narrative is carried by a caressing hand rather than a staring face so the mood needs to be more about comfort than perseverance. The foreground features a beautifully painted color patterned shirt, but that’s not enough to keep this grayish painting from feeling a bit sad and dreary. It’s a tribute to motherhood that’s more to be admired than enjoyed.
Miguel Malagon: "Downtown Vendor"
The cityscapes of Miguel Malagon are as immersed in the street life of the city as the man depicted in “Dayton Street” for which he was the model. They have the same gritty texture and jittery sense of space. His figures sometimes struggle to emerge from a blizzard of paint strokes and they never relate to each other very well, but isn’t that the reality of an urban street ? People may be physically close, but each is living in a hectic private world. There’s a sense of displacement, as one might expect in a city with so many immigrants – including both of these artists. (Qian was born in Shanghai, China; Malagon in Guanajuato, Mexico) Each painting feels like a collage of on-site sketches or studies from snapshots. They exhibit more concern with what can be seen than with what it might mean. Malagon’s landscapes, however, seem to focus on a kind of nervous and forceful graphic energy. He has relaxed and taken comfort from some rocks along the edge of a pond, but the hills, trees, and clouds appear to reflect back the artist’s own restless, questing spirit.
This exhibit takes place in the Vanderpoel Museum. John Vanderpoel (1857-1911) was a popular instructor at the School of the Art Institute. In his time, figure drawing from life was fundamental to art education, and he was a master. His instructional book, “The Human Figure” is still in print. Soon after his untimely death, former students began to assemble a collection of observational art in his honor. Some of the pieces were done by him or his students; most were not. Some were made by the leading artists of the day; most were not. It’s a fascinating slice of art history and of a tradition that lives on in the work of Qian and Malagon. It’s also a rather somber reminder that most art, no matter how skillful, thoughtful, and emotive, will eventually be pushed beyond the radar of the artworld. Now located in the Ridge Park Field House on the far south side, the Vanderpoel Museum itself is at the brink. It may not survive another generation unless someone steps up to revive it with more shows like this one.
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