| From a theoretical and linguistic point of view, one could argue that, since its inception, drawing as a medium has undergone a transformation from syntagm to paradigm, or from a primary form of communication to a refined, optional carrier of embedded narration. The basic human impulse to formulate information into a story has always figured prominently in different cultures. With popular culture constantly penetrating more deeply into the once distinct realm of the fine arts, narrative forms such as comics, movies and television are exerting increased influence on the work of visual artists. |  |
Storylines: Narrative in Drawing – Curator Frank Verpoorten
From a theoretical and linguistic point of view, one could argue that, since its inception, drawing as a medium has undergone a transformation from syntagm to paradigm, or from a primary form of communication to a refined, optional carrier of embedded narration. The basic human impulse to formulate information into a story has always figured prominently in different cultures. With popular culture constantly penetrating more deeply into the once distinct realm of the fine arts, narrative forms such as comics, movies and television are exerting increased influence on the work of visual artists. Stories are, and have always been, the glue that binds culture together and, hence, they are sources of a common visual language that can help us make sense of who we are.
The artists in “Storylines”—all of whom are active in New York—are like early explorers who visually capture seemingly objective information about their particular moment in time and who filter it through personal experience. They have stories to tell and points to make as they utilize the double-edged potential of familiar images in order to portray the subtle nuances and complicated issues of contemporary existence; they isolate an emotion, a place, an uncomfortable and inappropriate anecdote in time using universal and recognizable images to draw narrative from the scene or figure.
Rachel Bryan focuses her narratives on the psychology of the figure, creating a judicious blend of austerity and irony, and never missing an opportunity to exaggerate an unusual routine or to visualize insane fantasies. In doing so, she has developed a new vocabulary that is absurd yet familiar. The secret world, which she sees, creates and populates through drawing, can lead one on a voyage of discovery of influences, sources of inspiration and deeper questioning.
Simone Shubuck’s exceptional drawings, constructions and collages are equally secretive and might be read in any number of combinations—she explores the relationship between humans and the natural world. Seemingly having discovered how to take advantage of how the visual system works, she creates effects that allow our brains to fill in the details: delicate, layered scenes where birds, Cartier bracelet designs, lists of Jay-Z’s aliases, images of Egon Schiele, Peter Beard photographs and plants and flora collide and coexist. She combines pop cultural themes with her own personal doodles, phone numbers and random (at times enlightening) thoughts.
Jeff Gabel’s pencil drawings usually feature small sketches of people, appended with a line of text that explains who they are and what they were thinking at the time they were observed. They are an eclectic collection of characters and situations, both real and imagined, and often revolve around routine, day-to-day embarrassments, best-forgotten college experiences, or moments of minor personal revelation. Always disarmingly up-front about his misanthropic leanings, the artist is at least democratic about what and whom he turns his attention to. Recurring protagonists and scenarios include religion, the workplace, academics, artists, uncomfortable guests at parties, TV viewers, businessmen and miscellaneous other daydreamers. The artist’s concern for marginal and overlooked moments in the everyday is nevertheless transformative, always achieving a kind of twisted poignancy.
For this generation and more to come, Martin Wilner makes a calendar of humanity’s collective memory, serving as a portrait of a period of history, recording details and setting a visual record of the news of the day. He also keeps small, precious, diary-like sketchbooks with portraits of people he notices on the subway in New York on his way to and from his practice as a psychiatrist. He calls these fictive publications “The Journal of Evidence Weekly,” a title that occurred to him in a dream. “I dreamt that I was late in submitting an article for the Journal of Evidence Weekly. I woke up fearful of missing a deadline only to realize it was a dream. My first association to the dream was the acronym of the dream publication, J.E.W. As a child of Holocaust survivors, I certainly felt pressured by obligations to remember, to record and to replace. The J.E.W. is a paradoxical effort. The project is ongoing and thus the deadline endlessly recedes from each drawing.”
Dawn Clements’ monumental, acutely observed and densely rendered, wall-size ink drawings depict empty, film noir stage sets or the interior spaces of melodramatic films and soap operas. Although the melodrama queens who typically occupy these interiors are nowhere in sight, their emotional presence is palpable. Clements captures these backdrops for celluloid indiscretions in such vivid detail that they seem as real and immediate as the spaces we actually inhabit. The impact of the sheer physicality of her elaborate drawings, often spanning two or more walls, is overpowering.
