Head of the Class
Dana Tosici
Erik Korhel is a self-taught painter who has never had to bend to please anyone–doing so would be the end of art for a stand-up gentleman like Korhel. He didn’t pick up a brush until he was 24, and that was only six years ago. He is truly a testament to artists everywhere; he makes going to art school look false and contrived.Head.jpg
His inspiration comes from his childhood, not so much outside sources as inner ones. He grew up in Washington and still resides there, after a brief stint in Texas that was painfully inspirational to his work. Sorrow and despair drip off his cardboard canvas.
The man in Korhel’s paintings is the man in front of the cardboard canvas. The purples and yellows that are sometimes present are reflective of the good that won’t come out. The house is a reoccurring symbol of a childhood innocence that is lost. Korhel revisits on canvas what he does in his everyday life. A Neil Cassidy of sorts, he drives through his old neighborhood for inspiration. Again, this is the inner forces that combust onto his cardboard canvas.
A facial expression is something that cannot be found in Korhel’s work, heads remain bowed in some form of reverence. Even in the paintings in which the subject is facing forward, there is no face to be seen. The option of interpretation remains underrated, Korhel decides that it is what one cannot see that is more effective that what is blaring in your face.
A poet by nature and a painter by practice, Erik has a strong place in his heart for the work of Vincent Van Gogh. His work reflects how the preacher’s son has found his way into our electronically-saturated world. He claims that it is better to find yourself on an equal playing ground with your predecessors rather than trying to "paint like Rembrandt." Obviously, there is nothing wrong with painting like Rembrandt, but some shoes are just too big to be filled. Aside from Van Gogh, his artistic influences range from Munch to Bacon.
The substance of his work is as heavy as an anvil and the execution is precise. Critics have called his work "too melancholy," which makes Korhel believe he must be doing something right. Any opinion is better than none, and no press is ever bad press. When asked to discuss his perception of the art world today, he stated that it is all regurgitated technique, style and substance. It is as if anyone could come along, throw some paint on a canvas and call himself a Pollack. Whether or not this is the case, it should remain a concern.
In Washington, the art that sells seems to be landscapes. Maybe Korhel is not unlike his mentor and is simply underappreciated. I hope, for the sake of the art world, that he doesn’t just sell one painting in his lifetime. It would be the entire art world, not Korhel, that would be losing out, as he’s already at the head of the class.
