2021 James McLaughlin Staff Show

Roberto Alcaraz, Behind the veil, 2019, Gelatin silver print, 8 x 10 in.

Alvaro Altamar, Untitled, 2019, Oil on canvas, 18 x 21 in.

Sarah Andrews, Kitchen Memory, 2019, Watercolor on paper, 21 x 17 in.

Ernest Baroni, Untitled, 2020, Digital B/W print, 8 x 12 in.

Justin Baun, Untitled, 2021, Found object in acrylic, 10 x 8 in.

“What is nothing? Can it be done on purpose? When I found this card it evoked this questions in my mind. Noting of something’s nothingness makes it something….or does it? Framing the card contextualizes the ridiculousness of such a statement, ‘Intentionally Blank’. Though, there is bravery in stating, ‘nothing here’ and meaning it. Such multitudes in two words!”

Avery Bayard, Studio Apartment, Columbia Heights, 6 am, 2021, Found objects with acrylic paint and LED lighting, 15 3/4 x 12 1/2 x 13 1/2 in.

“This work is, in more than one way, sourced from my neighborhood of Columbia Heights in Washington, DC. Aside from some paint and lighting, everything you see was collected from its streets. The narrative here is also characteristic of the neighborhood. I wanted to portray a small, vibrant, but very liminal space, evoking a sense of transience, a preparation for departure, by the soft lighting and the time on the two clocks. The occupant, an average member of the working class, has attempted to establish a semblance of identity, comfort, and balance in an environment in which they barely spend any of their waking hours. Though they have furnished and lovingly decorated this studio apartment, their value as a member of the working class is ultimately determined by the amount of time they spend outside of it.”

Jon Bella, Untitled (Mueller Report), 2019, Printed paper and gesso on canvas, 48 x 72 in.

Alexis Boyd, Mythologies (Un)becoming, 2020, Acrylic, paper, and soil on canvas with audio, 47 x 39 in.

“A painting and an audio installation, Mythologies (Un)becoming holds the shifting myths of amphibious, once-human beings, black girlhood, and an encounter with an arrivant of ecological cataclysm. It asks what might it be like to create work that recognizes generative possibility within the feelings of resistance that an encounter with posthuman empathy stirred within me; to create work that might encourage another to also find generative possibility within resistance; and to fail to do so. It is a incomplete and recursive exploration of the unsettlings, reconfigurations, and un-becoming-withs of the human, the self, and the world and begins with the idea that a queer, black aesthetics has already anticipated an ecological apocalypse. There is an inchoate but insistent idea within this work that, perhaps, precisely the kind of ethical engagement ecological catastrophe demands is one rooted not in belonging but in the ‘unruly-being-together’ that emerges from unbelonging.”

Edwin Calderon, Engulfed No. 3, 2020, Acrylic on canvas, 8 x 8 in.

Liam Cawley, The Golden Vanity, 2020, India ink on Yupo, 8 x 7 3/4 in.

Onnicha Chanthanuraks, Home, 2019, Photograph, 21 x 25 in.

Charles Chen, The Phillips Forward, 2021, Digital print, 20 x 30 in.

“Celebrating its centennial year, and in the midst of a global pandemic and racial reckoning, The Phillips Forward imagines what the museum might become in its next century. The illustration conceives of a museum that is diverse, accessible, participatory, interpretive, and immersive. In this future museum, the primacy and permanence of framed two dimensional art yields to diverse art forms including installations, time-based media, immersive and smart technologies, and ephemeral experiences. The museum is visualized as much a social space as a contemplative one. Imagined as a family of museum visitors, the Phillips Family - Duncan, Marjorie, Laughlin, and Mary Marjorie - are able to witness the museum they founded in its future form. Though the title implies an imaginary future, the viewer soon realizes the illustration is, in fact, a reflection of the transformation of museums now, glimpsing both a necessary evolution and tantalizing possibilities for America’s first modern art museum.”

Kimberly Cunningham, Cherub, 2020, Photograph, 16 x 20 in.

Emma Dreyfuss, Untitled (Miniature Vases), 2019, Porcelain, 2 x 5 in.

Claire Fraleigh, Leaf Quilt, 2020, Eco-printed paper quilt, 33 x 25 in.

Sasha Gates, Untitled, 2021, Acrylic and mixed media, 15 1/4 x 12 1/4 in.

Victoria Hagar, At Sea, 2020, Collage, 12 x 18 in.

“This collage was made of 3 pieces of found paper. The work is a visual depiction of where I am in the journey of life and some emotions related to the pandemic and my own philosophy of time and place as well. Sailing can look easy breezy but actually requires a lot of work, constant focus and a relationship with nature that overwhelms, at times, with a power all its own.”

Taryn Harris, there’s a lot to unpack here, 2020, Oil and acrylic on paper, 15 x 15 in.

Shawn Lindsay, Sierra in Yellow, 2020, Watercolor on paper, 16 x 14 in.

Ann Lipscombe, St. Sebastian, 2021, Colored pencil on paper, 10 x 8 in.

Mike McSorley, Rumsey Court SE, 2021, Oil on panel, 20 x 16 in.

“This was painted during the pandemic. It was done from a photograph of the alley behind our apartment building. The image was put in in stages; the sky first as it is very thin and the gradation comes mostly from removing paint and using thin glazes over the white gesso.”

McCaela Michas, Critter Curiosities, 2021, Mixed media, 5 11/16 x 7 11/16 in.

Briana Milbourne, Freely Floating, 2014, Linocut print, 20 x 13 in.

“Freely Floating is a print about my life and all the emotions I was feeling and experiencing in 2014. I was overcome with grief. I had lost two people that were very close to me. I used my art as therapy to sort out my emotions. The print is of a young woman with an Afro in the clouds, sitting on top of an Adinkra symbol called ‘Twisting’ which means versatility or flexibility. Being able to bend without breaking and staying resilient will keep you freely floating until your time is up. I encourage everyone to enjoy the life they have been given and face all challenges with a positive mindset to create a bright future.”

Jennifer Mitchell, Birds of a Feather, 2019, Photograph, 9 13/16 x 9 13/16

“When I worked as a journalist in the District, I took photos for reporting and also just for fun. I gravitated towards tree tops, and the way they looked against the sky. DC’s height restrictions on buildings make it so we can experience that natural beauty in the city. This was taken in Bloomingdale, where I lived for many years when I first moved here. The title speaks not only to the image but also to all of the good friends I’ve made in DC and the strong larger community I’m a part of, both of which reflect a lot of my same interests and values.”

Arnold Oppler, Paradise Valley, Absaroka Mountain Range, Montana, 2019, Digital color photograph, 11 x 14 1/2 in.

“On a road trip just outside Livingston, Montana a sudden summer downpour produced a spectacular show. The moment was captured through the car window with my iPhone.”

E. N. Rader, Selections from the Installation “Pour Claude Monet”, 2020, Instant photography, 22 x 28 in.

“Tell me, can you find some peace in these images? What do you find in them?

Pour Claude Monet is a photo installation made over the course of the Pandemic. They are an attempt to understand how to make pretty pictures in times of devastation. This installation is a response to Monet, making waterlilies in WWI.

Impressionism and Instant Photography have strange similarities. They rely on means other than those loud large academic paintings with their poorly considered details to communicate. Monet and I serialize the image. Impressionism and the revival of instant photography are tied to mediums losing their old function. Something some people may call obsolescence. The introduction of photography that produced a detailed image rendered painting pointless as a document. While the digitization of my world has taken away the sole claim to the living image photography once had. AR environments, virtual reality, and more have all taken bites out of what once was the king of documentation.”

Allison “Rizzo” Rismondo, On the Water, 2020, Photograph, 12 1/2 x 15 1/2 in.

Karen Schneider, Thoreau + Lincoln = X, 2021, Mixed media, 12 x 8 1/2 in.

“Every Christmas I have an ornament making party during which I make collages. I save interesting photographs from the Washington Post and the New York Times. I love biographies and print images of historical figures such as Abraham Lincoln, Henry David Thoreau, and Frederick Douglass. In addition to newspaper clippings, I use paper that has a shiny black surface and draw images using a wooden stylus, revealing silver or gold underneath. During the pandemic, I’ve made collages with friends over Zoom.

I work intuitively, finding joy in the unexpected relationships between one image and another. In response to photographs of Thoreau and Walden Pond, I selected color images of birds and in some cases drew them freehand. The presence of birds in nature rhymes visually with Thoreau’s way of life. Lincoln’s strong facial features help to anchor the composition and the central figure of a man pointing to a complex equation adds a note of visual tension between historical and modern.”

Billie Smith, Basil’s Garden Charm, 2020, Resin art, 3 x 3 in.

“Quarantine spawned art.”

Emma Sweeney, Portrait of Marshmallow, 2020, Punch needle tapestry, 24 x 18 in.

“Hanging punch needle tapestry of my rabbit who passed away in 2019.”

Camila Tapia-Guilliams, All On Borrowed Time, 2021, Collage, acrylic paint, ink, 8 x 14 in.

Jorge Vara Hernandez, Lucía Esta Dispuesta, 2021, Oil on canvas, 30 x 24 in.

Jeff Whitelow, Trans-Metro Express (Winter 6:11PM), 2021, Photograph, 20 13/16 x 15 5/8 in.

“Influenced by John Sloan’s Six O’Clock, Winter.”