INTERVIEW: EMILY COUNTS

Emily Counts and Gabi Lewton-Leopold catch up to talk about Emily’s new body of work now on view at Nationale in her solo exhibition, Souvenir.

Emily Counts’ Souvenir, on view at Nationale through June 6, 2021.
All images ©️ Mario Gallucci

Gabi Lewton-Leopold: How has this past year been for you and your studio practice? 

Emily Counts: I’ve had two bodies of work during the pandemic. I think there’s been a little bit of a shift between the first one, and this new body of work. I initially pared down my materials to just ceramics and glazes, or materials I already had in my studio, because it felt stressful to go out and source wood and other components that I used to often incorporate. With this body of work, I started to go back again to go to the places where I get non-ceramic materials. For instance to buy stained glass, you do have to be kind of physical, and go through shelves or bins of glass. Look at them, touch them, hold them. Things that other people may have touched. I wasn’t doing that type of thing in the beginning of the pandemic, was very isolated and really just using what I had. Thankfully I had stocked up on clay and glaze prior to that. 

GLL: At the beginning of the pandemic lots of artists were talking about feeling frozen, like they couldn’t create. Was that true for you or were you able to work through it? 

EC: No, I think my natural reaction to what feels like an extreme crisis is to initially be somewhat freer in the studio. There have been certain times in my life when I’ve had a crisis, like when a loved one has passed away, and for maybe a period of four months I feel like I have nothing to lose, and so I really go for it. I wanted to embrace life, as a reaction to thinking about death, in regards to what I was doing with my art. I think most artists I know were experiencing troubles creatively at the beginning. That came for me a little later. 

It took me a lot longer to create this show than it might have in the past. I felt myself moving at a slower pace. I put a lot of care into these pieces. Slowing down and having a longer time frame with these works, I feel like everything has been really cared for. I put a lot of emotion into these pieces. They all really matter to me. 

GLL: Can you talk about your interest in exploring childhood memories in your work? 

EC: I have always been interested in exploring early memories, but I don’t think I was necessarily comfortable talking about childhood themes to this extent. I think my most powerful visual experiences come from childhood experiences. Certain objects like children’s books, games, play structures, have influenced who I’ve become as an artist and as a human. Those are really powerful experiences and I have always been tapping into those memories, but with this body of work I was more aware of the specifics, and the particular things from my past. Every surface, every color I have associations with, there’s a reason behind everything, every shape. 
I wonder if other people have the same type of experiences from their childhood. Some people are maybe more influenced by food or music, sounds, or physical experiences. When I think about what my dreams look like, they’re very material focused. It ties into how I’m a sculptor, and how I am interested in things that are tactile. The visual and tactile quality of objects. I’ve always been really fascinated with things that you see and touch. 

It’s For You, 2021, glazed stoneware and porcelain, white gold luster, acrylic sheet, copper wire, 17.5 x 15 x 4 inches

GLL: The three female busts in the show have so much character. Who are they and how did they come to be? 

Orange Witch, Woman With Sweater, and Grandmothers Powers

EC: I’ve been working with abstracted human head and bust-type forms for many years now. This is an evolution of those thoughts, of how I can represent myself or another human. These three are very specifically female. The pandemic has made me think more about the people in my life that I love and miss. Sort of contemplating my relationships. My mother and my grandmother, and my great-grandmother are/were all creative people, and I feel like my interest in art came to me through those women. 

These busts aren’t representing just those women specifically. I was also thinking about three women I did a residency with in February of 2020. It was just the four of us living on a houseboat in California. It was a wonderful, utopian moment with these other three women artists. It was called the Varda Artist Residency Program, on a decommissioned ferry boat, a place where artists have been working and living in various forms for decades. 

For these busts, I was thinking of my relationships with women, friend groups of women or other women family members, and their relationships with each other. Also a little bit about magic and witches and covens. I think these busts are about magic. 

GLL: You always have a wonderful way of combining natural, traditional sculpture materials like ceramic and wood with unexpected elements like electricity and acrylic sheets. When did you start incorporating electricity into your sculptures? 

EC: I started incorporating electricity and illumination in my sculptures in 2010. That is the first time I experimented with stained glass and bringing that into a ceramic piece with a hollow interior, illuminating the piece from the inside. With the incorporation of light I’m really interested in the different experiences of feeling or seeing color. I like to pair illuminated or glowing color, by using stained glass, acrylic sheets, or colored lights, with the opaque colors of ceramic glazes and other non-transparent materials. The colors that you get from stained glass are a different range than what are available in glazes. 

I am experimenting with brighter and warmer colors like marigold, vermillion, lavender, mauve, red, and also using that bright royal blue that I have used in the past. I’m experimenting and trying to find out what I like right now. 

Grandmothers Powers, 2021, glazed stoneware with gold luster, electrical components and lighting, 15 x 7.5 x 7.5 inches

GLL: The linked vessels are so poetic and subtle. I read them as forever linked, and that has a sweetness to it, but there’s a flipside to that. They're forever linked, so therefore they can never perform their “intended” function. Sometimes you can be linked with a person, or with anything in your life and it can feel like something pulling you this way and that, and not letting you do what you need to do.

EC: You mean feeling trapped? 

GLL: Yes, feeling trapped, basically! Am I reading too far into it? 

Two Futures, 2021, glazed stoneware with gold luster, 12 x 7 x 5 inches

EC: It’s interesting because other people have asked me about that, specifically about the functionality being removed. First, the idea for the linked vessels did come out of the beginning of the pandemic and thinking about missing people, and noticing the people on the street holding hands, and knowing that is significant. I was thinking about the importance of touch and just wishing we could all hug the people we love. But we can't. The idea also came to me at the time I got engaged. I had thoughts about partnership and intimacy, friendship and family, and all the ways that people are connected. It’s a symbolic connection and I’ve represented that symbolic connection with these linked handles. Just in the way that we’re connected to someone who died even when they’re gone physically. 

I have been using vase, vessel, and pitcher forms as abstracted surrogates for the human body or beings, and so I think of these vessels as art pieces and their functionality is to bring beauty, rather than to dispense liquids. For me the functionality is there, in their beauty. That’s my own relationship to the idea of a vessel at this point since I’ve been working with them for a number of years, and I don’t think of them of being deprived of function when linked by the handles. I’ll think about that trapped feeling...

GLL: Well, like with any piece of art, my reading is also a reflection of what’s going on in my own head. Like I’m feeling trapped as a parent or something… 

EC: It’s interesting because I’m a fairly independent person. I don’t want to be joined at the hip and do everything with my partner. If the vessels represent a romantic relationship ideally they would be linked but left open at the bottom. But it’s also sculpturally a challenge. It’s really tricky to glaze them when they’re joined, so that’s technically interesting to me. 

GLL: I’m thinking about a few of the wall pieces and stacked sculptures that are compiled of separate elements. With those pieces, do you have the whole piece in mind while you’re working, or is your studio filled with individual elements that eventually find their place in a larger work? 

It Means What You Feel, 2020, glazed stoneware with gold luster, walnut wood, stained glass, cotton rope, copper, hardware, 29 x 49 x 4.5 inches

EC: I sketch them out, either through quick drawings or small paintings on paper. I need a roadmap or a diagram to work from. It takes a lot of the stress out of the process for me. Almost everything I make comes from a two-dimensional idea. I am starting to use color more in this process but previously I worked from simple black and white drawings and would figure out the colors when glazing on ceramic surfaces. Colors are the in-the-moment creativity part that’s more difficult.

View fullsize

Queen's Potion Sketch (detail)

View fullsize

Queen's Potion

GLL: Do you have a favorite piece in the show? 

EC: I really like the bust that has the yellow face, the white hair, and the lavender and orange sweater. I can’t put my finger on it. I think I’m happy with the way the colors turned out in that piece. Those are the colors that are my go-to palette right now. There are little details about it that I’m pleased with. 

I’m always searching for what I think is beautiful to me at any given moment in time, as it shifts. That’s really hard, to be successful for my own personal standards. It’s difficult to land on something that I think is beautiful for more than a few months. 

Woman With Sweater, 2021, glazed stoneware with gold luster, electrical components and lighting, 15 x 11 x 6.5 inches

GLL: What are you looking forward to in your practice right now? 

EC: I have a new interactive ceramic sound piece that uses little sensors that are light sensitive. It’s a white noise machine and people can interact with it, changing the noise quality, just with the motion of their hands above the sensors. The electrical components on the inside of this piece are from a kit called an “Optical Theremin.” I’m excited about getting back into pieces that use sound and interactivity, but trying to work with interactive elements that don’t necessarily require touch. I stepped away from that for a while because of virus concerns. I’d like to do more projects like that in the future.

Red Noise Bottle, 2021, glazed stoneware with gold luster, circuitry, optical sensors, amplifier, electrical components, hardware, 15 x 10 x 7 inches

Thank you to both Gabi and Emily for this lovely conversation. We’ve missed this interview series so much!

Lusi Lukova on "RE: Assembly"

RE: Assembly, on view at Nationale through October 18, 2020

As part of Portland Textile Month, Nationale weaves together a powerful assemblage of local, national, and international multi-media artists. RE: Assembly, on view through October 18th, reads like a love letter to light and fiber works; it is “adapted from a former function… pliable in form…. towards a new idea.”  With thoughts of what it means to re-construct, re-contextualize, and re-assess objects and thoughts and materials, the works presented are unique to themselves and to the context of the gallery. Exhibiting together for the first time, these four artists present a strong front as makers currently working to push the boundaries of form and intuition. 

L: Lane Walkup, Boot and Heel, both 2020, steel, fabric, and spray paint, approx. 7 (h) x 9 x 3 inches

R: Michelle Yi Martin, Room Insider, 2020, cotton, wool, and acrylic light gels, 8.5 x 3 feet

To experience the full dreamy poetics of this show, arrive early in the morning. It’s October now so consider the way in which the sun rises later and lower than in the height of summer. Around 11am the dewy light of a new day is coming through at just the right angle to shine on and through Michelle Yi Martin’s Room Insider. The reflection cast on the back wall captures Martin’s intricate mosaic, catching the exact tints off of the bits of acrylic light gels she’s laced with cotton and wool. Connecting light to movement, Martin reiterates what it means for textiles to be fluid and shifting. 

Francesca Capone, Material Memory II, 2019, mixed media waste scrap fabrics and lavender, 44 x 38 inches

On the opposite wall, writer and weaver Francesca Capone trades in her traditional and laboriously hand-woven works to create her newest series, Material Memory I-IV, which push towards a zero-waste practice. These works are laden with memory and sentiment, considering how personal scrap can, in this context, create new narratives. These patchwork pieces reject precision and tradition to make room for new modes of interaction. A personal favorite aspect are the hefty lavender patches sewn into Material Memory II that can be touched, scratched and sniffed for an added element of surprise. 

Sofía Clausse, Paper Tapestry #2, 2020, acrylic on paper and mixed media, 58 x 38 inches

With similar values of repetition and gridded gesture to Capone and Martin, artist Sofia Clausse’s works on paper are however nothing but exact and carefully measured. When approaching Paper Tapestry #2 and Paper Dishcloth despite their opposing sizes, viewers are lost in the intricate linework and repetitive motions that Clausse has taken great care in implementing. They look appealingly tactile, yet also terrifyingly delicate. Similarly, Lane Walkup’s sculptures Heel, Boot, and Chair IV meld two disparate elements, steel and pantyhose, to re-imagine non-functional but beautiful everyday objects. Stretching the fabric over the metal skeletons, then spray painting the sheer fabric in joyful colors, these sculptures offer the ideal sculptural contrast to the three other artist’s similarly playful imaginings. 

A show not to be missed - come early, stay for a while. 

Lane Walkup, Chair IV, 2020, steel, fabric, and spray paint, 34.5 (h) x 15 x 13 inches

Beacon Sound/Nationale changes afoot

We want to let our community know that the collaborative space at 15 SE 22nd Avenue will be moving forward differently than we had originally envisioned. We discovered in late June that the space was not rated for retail occupancy, which set in motion an entirely different, and much more grueling, permit process than we were expecting. What should have been a relatively quick buildout with a grand re-opening for both Beacon Sound and Nationale on September 1, turned into an extended process that is still underway. 

Because of the delays and uncertainty surrounding the SE 22nd Avenue space, Beacon Sound was forced to pull out of the lease when it became clear that the record shop would be out of business for all of October and likely into November, crucial autumn sales months. Beacon Sound will instead be reopening on October 10 at 207 SE Grand Avenue.

Nationale—which has been temporarily closed since it moved out of its Division location at the end of August—is staying the course with the 15 SE 22nd Avenue space and will be reopening after permit approval and buildout. In the meantime, the gallery is presenting a pop-up exhibition at PDX Contemporary Art in the PDX Window Project, featuring works from its forthcoming exhibition with Aruni Dharmakirthi.

We originally discussed bringing Nationale and Beacon Sound together 5 years ago so it definitely hurts to have our best laid plans fall apart this time. Both of us operate our respective businesses with a similarly scrappy attitude and a fierce determination to facilitate in-the-flesh community and push contemporary art and music forward in a challenging economy. We intend to continue doing exactly that and will explore all opportunities to collaborate even if it doesn’t mean sharing a physical space at this point in time. We hope you will continue to support us in our respective locations and offer up our sincerest gratitude in advance. In the meantime, please follow our Instagram accounts for updates and details as they develop. Feel free to contact us directly as well.

Andrew Neerman (Beacon Sound) and May Barruel (Nationale)

Beacon Sound
207 SE Grand Avenue
beaconsound@gmail.com
@beacon_sound

Nationale
15 SE 22nd Avenue
may@nationale.us
@nationale

"William Matheson’s Nocturnes: What You See You Also Don’t See" by Paul Maziar (commissioned essay)

The night is long and poor in council. — Samuel Beckett (Malone Dies)

An absorbing solitude runs through William Matheson’s Antigen exhibition, evoking the remoteness, the chill, silence, and revelry of deep night. There’s also a hint of subversion in the way each painting registers as mind-image: that noiseless moving picture ever playing behind the eyelids. And it’s the social content behind Matheson’s new body of work that causes this. Here, the personal and the public merge in ways that allow Matheson to readily connect through his medium. He does so with the innovative hand of an adept painter, the mind of an occultist, upping the ante of what painting can communicate. 

Matheson’s content—addiction and Big Pharma; memory, loss, and the desire to preserve life in the face of societal and environmental collapse—is self-evident (as the doomy palette of the nocturne is wont to be) and yet discreet, never treacly. He successfully employs his medium to show instead of tell. In one painting, Phone (Fentanyl) (2019), a foil dispenser for the opioid Fentanyl mimics the petal-and-sepal formation of a flower. This is a reminder that direct observation can blend seamlessly with intellectual and emotional positions. The fact of death looms, making Antigen both attractive and repellent, not to mention Matheson’s turns of radar-green and what they invoke. Each person faces death in life while fearing it, unable to grasp it completely, while art is there to provide innocuous inklings. Just a little drop of poison casts light on the universal: curtains, darkness, the end.

Phone (Fentanyl), 2019, oil on panel, 12 x 9 inches

Paintings are so attractive, in part, because they’re often readily accessible, easy to take in as it’s all there on the flat canvas, pleasing to the eye and to the mind. “What you see is what you see” as the Frank Stella adage goes (or rather, went). Paintings are also in service to question surrounding social realities as related to one’s own. Matheson’s nocturnes draw the mind into recessed, shadowy spaces, encouraging (if not requiring) long-looking. Because of his painterly ingenuity, what you see you also don’t see. As I walked through Nationale to look at Matheson’s latest works, each painting literally changed before me. This is a trait that I look for in any art form, the dynamic ability to surprise as time passes; when a representational painting has this quality, it disorients in a good way. 

In Night Computer (Preserved Shark) (2019), a green glow bears the image of, you guessed it, a shark, preserved in a jar as a scientific specimen. Despite the fact of the apparent formal frankness of the composition—a computer turned on in the dark—a hidden image sits waiting for the viewer’s changed perspective. Standing beside the painting to gaze across its surface edgewise, the grid formation of a keyboard magically appears, black-on-black, baffling the eye and the mind. The surface and depth of the painting vibrate in apparent flatness that made me question what paintings are. 

Night Computer (Preserved Shark), 2019, oil on canvas, 26 x 40 inches

Having seen and walked away from the exhibition, I began to wonder what other hidden optical nuances were being transferred, subliminally dispatching things to which the eye might latently attend. In another painting (spoiler alert), Night Window with Ghosts (2019)—this one a still life of a reed in a bottle in front of a photograph taped to a wall—figure and ground (and thus perception) are destabilized by a “sudden” apparition, putting in a vapory appearance somehow behind the dark background of a wall. The dim pallor of a face below dark brushstrokes that communicate “hair” is enough to make the whole exhibition worthy of return visits, deeper consideration, maybe a nightmare or two. I thought to myself, if such optical tricks can be played in paint, why don’t artists play them more often? The answer is that to do so at all means to risk relating to the hoary tradition of parlor games. 

Night Window with Ghosts, 2019, oil on canvas, 26 x 40 inches

With Antigen, however, Matheson successfully activates the visual field (i.e. it’s specifically not static) making the case for the medium of painting at a time when it seems anything is possible when it comes to image rendering and communication (I’m thinking VR, holograph, video, and everything else). Surface and depth fluctuate, hover and sink, and emphasize the fact of the unseen relative to the image. The exchanges, juxtapositions between the glow and pitch from within these paintings, make for an engaging, memorable experience. In the art historical tradition of the nocturne, Matheson is working within and commenting on the objective rendering that is in service of evoking subjective states, memories, fears, longings, emotions—in short, the unseen. To put this style into practice now, by way of subjects that refer to the often banal trappings of contemporary life (iPhones, laptops and the endless “content and information” they project), Matheson’s work satisfies; his occupation takes note of our period. It encourages change in how to see the world, calling for an engrossed consideration of the image, what we use to see and process it: the screen, the eye, the mind. 

This commissioned essay is supported in part by a Project Grant from the Regional Arts & Culture Council. 

Paul Maziar is a writer and editor. His art writings can be read at ArtPractical, ArtCritical, The Los Angeles Review of Books, Oregon ArtsWatch, WhiteHot Magazine, and Rrealism.

William Matheson lives and works in Portland, OR. He has exhibited nationally at galleries in Richmond, VA, Washington, DC, and New York. Internationally, his work has been shown in Switzerland, South Korea, Japan, and the Czech Republic. Matheson is the recipient of a Milton and Sally Avery Fellowship Award from the Vermont Studio Center in Johnson, VT, an Artist Grant from The Elizabeth Greenshields Foundation in Montreal, and a recent Project Grant from the Regional Arts and Culture Council in Portland, OR. He has been an artist-in-residence at the Örö Residency Programme in Finland, Mass MoCA in North Adams, MA, AIRY in Kofu, Japan, and the Vermont Studio Center. Matheson received his MFA from Virginia Commonwealth University in Richmond, VA, in 2016 and his BFA from Portland’s Pacific Northwest College of Art in 2013. He is represented by Nationale in Portland, OR.

Le Book Club!

Hoping to encourage community conversations across disciplines, Nationale now has a book club. Once a month, we will meet to chat about a selected book that relates thematically to our exhibition. User Not Found, an essay in tiny book form by Felicity Fenton, is the selection for our June group show, Assembly, which addresses the necessity of community and real life interactions for art spaces to survive.

First of all, this book is only six dollars. Second of all, it’s a quick and easy read. Third of all, it’s REALLY GOOD. And it is published locally by Future Tense Books!

Does anyone really enjoy Instagram at this point? Is Twitter something positive and constructive that adds to our lives? What percentage of people using social media do it for reasons other than addictive dependence and/or necessity? How many of us need periodic breaks in order to maintain our sanity? And, if we decide we want to loosen the grip of social media on our lives someday, what will the alternative be?

In User Not Found, Felicity Fenton opens up the discussion for us by describing her attempt to step away from “The Walls” of social media. The result is simultaneously comforting, challenging, heartbreaking, and funny. It’s a natural conversation starter. So please, pick up a copy of this little treasure and join us for book club on Tuesday, June 25 at 6:30pm. Fenton herself will lead our meeting.
—Jess Mcfadden

Michelle Blade X Le Oui

Michelle X Le Oui, 2019, limited edition 3 color silkscreen print, 20 x 16”, $50

Today is the last day of Michelle Blade's exhibition, Pansy. Fortunately, Blade collaborated with Le Oui on a new silkscreen print, which we will continue to have on view at Nationale.

The 20 x 16” print was adapted from a rainbow colored pencil drawing in which five androgynous figures explore a watery oasis. Something about it is magical, perhaps the unconventional use of color, or the way a floral border adds to the atmosphere of the scene.

Taken from the pages of Blade’s sketchbook, LEOUI—011 features a drawing inspired by the tide pools of the Solana Beach, CA, an area Blade endlessly explored throughout her childhood. Within the drawing Blade encapsulates her love for the natural world through the unexpected color trajectory of a rainbow pencil. The figures and burgeoning landscape are joined through undulating and psychedelic lines, ultimately highlighting the spirit of their oneness. 

Throughout the year, Le Oui (an offshoot of Nationale) commissions work by artists to produce limited edition silkscreen prints. Each participating artists chooses an organization to receive 10% of proceeds. Michelle Blade chose Planned Parenthood to benefit from the sales of her print. And if $50 isn’t enough of a bargain for this gem, know that your purchase will give a little support to one of our community's vital health providers.
—Jess Mcfadden

In the Garden of Beauty and Mystery I Michelle Blade's "Pansy"

A short review by Lusi Lukova

Cocoon Dance, 2019, acrylic ink and paint on satin, 27 x 28 inches

With her debut solo show Pansy at Nationale, painter and installation artist Michelle Blade melds iconic imagery and unruly mediums to demonstrate the unpredictability of painting. Pulling from the biblical narrative of Adam and Eve in the Garden, Blade focuses her artistic energies on Eve, and other feminine mediations of her spirit in these new works. In an attempt to explore the feminine relationship to the land, to knowledge, and to a sense of community, these pieces evoke an almost illustrative and magical quality. Each of these paintings depict large-scale scenes of the garden and the earth in dreamy shades of pinks, blues, and yellows. In the traditional narrative, Eve is scorned for her defiance. However, in Pansy, the expectations are reversed and the unforeseen beauty and strength of the feminine are revered. Just as humans are unpredictable and far from foolproof, in each of these paintings Blade explores a personal coming to terms with how perhaps it was a woman’s doing that set the path forward to everything else but perfection. As a result, Blade navigates our attention to the particular synchronicity humans share in the creation of everything in our immediate and tangible worlds.

Tree of Knowledge, 2019, acrylic ink and paint on satin, 31 x 27.25

The works presented are all painted on satin, a new format of expression both for Blade and for this historical imagery. The artist deems the material “alive” in that it shifts with each stroke of the brush. Unruly and independent, much like Eve herself, the satin allows the paint to bleed in unprecedented ways, the acrylic ink becoming so fluid that it resembles watercolors over anything else. Due to its sheer nature, it also allows for light to leak through in a similar fashion, adding an ethereal, almost divine luminosity to the works. In the bleeding of the ink, there form abstractions which we can liken to a physical representation of the mysteries of the universe. Presented as meditations on beauty and the natural world, works like Pansies, in which a woman is communing with a snake, are overt in their symbolism while coyly presenting a duality of the female. She may give in to speaking with the snake, but she is also fearless for doing so. As a whole, this exhibition questions these historically gendered tropes and ultimately comes to the conclusion that perfection is not to be neither expected, nor exalted.

Moon Twin, 2019, acrylic ink and paint on satin, 42.5 x 27 inches

Michelle Blade’s Pansy is on view through June 4th, with a print release and closing reception on June 2nd, from 12-2pm.

Michelle Blade | "Pansy"

A short review by Jess Mcfadden

I'm just going to say it: Michelle Blade's current show at Nationale is the most mystifying thing ever. How did she do it? Every painting in Pansy is endlessly fascinating, endlessly beautiful. For every two square inches of satin, there are twenty times I ask myself what process -- spiritually, mentally, and physically-- took place in the formation of this work. As if the paintings weren't enough, Blade includes four stellar drawings which translate the allegorical nature of Pansy into a more straightforward, graphic medium.

Touching Balance, 2019, rainbow pencil on paper, 11 x 9 inches

The title of the show, Pansy, appropriately describes many aspects of the work. It is proudly feminine, both visually and conceptually. Ripply, floral textures of acrylic ink bleed into satin, resembling 'wet into wet' watercolor painting, or calling back to Helen Frankenthaler's legendary soak-stain technique. Flowers, fruit trees, full moons, and other symbolic images work their way into dreamlike scenes where naked women dance and ponder peacefully. The speckled presence of nighttime alludes to a willful exploration of the unknown. Nothing is concrete except the paintings' beautiful maple frames.

Pansies, 2019, acrylic ink and paint on satin, 30.5 x 27 inches

Throughout the work is a feeling of protection. Blade's characters appear in search of something magical (which always involves a bit of risk), but they have the support of each other and of their nonhuman friends. In Springtime Devotional, two people walk together with a dog and owl watching over them, under the light of a full moon. One of Blade's influences for this work is the Biblical story of Adam and Eve, which depicts women as divisive and basically evil. Blade, however, depicts women as collaborative and strong in their pursuit of knowledge. Her work is like an affirmation to viewers, saying "Don't be ashamed. You're on the right path."

Springtime Devotional, 2019, acrylic ink and paint on satin, 32 x 27.5 inches

Pansy will be on display through June 4, 2019

Springtime at Nationale

The flowers are blooming! The sun is out! Dogs and babies are all over the place, making us smile whether we want to or not. SPRING IS HERE! 

For the past few months our blog has been in hibernation mode, watching documentaries and brewing plans for the future like everybody else. We've been having a good time here at the gallery, though.

In February, Lilian Martinez brought her beautiful pastel portraits up from L.A. Her show Soft Shades portrayed women of color, relaxed yet powerful, in comfortable domestic settings.

Lilian Martinez, Woman Reclined, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 30 x 24 inches.

From March 15 to April 23, Shohei Taksaki shared with us a collection of colorful, bold, abstracted domestic scenes in his show Where did you sleep last night? He installed an 11 ft. tall painting diagonally, leaning from the floor to the ceiling. It completely changed the shape of the gallery, and provided a comparison to think about: loved ones are kind of like huge, amazing, complex paintings that we can only see from a slanted angle. Living with a partner, even sleeping beside them each night, we can never fully understand their experience because we are limited by our own perspectives. In addition to the large painting, Shohei delighted us with a variety of smaller works, including one piece that was half sculpture, half painting.

Shoehei Takasaki’s exhibition, Where did you sleep last night? First installation.

For the last week of Takasaki's show, we reinstalled his work in a more "traditional" manner. The giant painting hung straight on the wall, and some of the smaller paintings changed positions in the gallery. 

Shoehei Takasaki’s exhibition, Where did you sleep last night? Second installation.

This past week, we've enjoyed a pop-up by local artist John Petrucelli: A kid from Chicago. John has been a warm presence in the Portland art scene for decades. He's worked as a teacher, explored wonders of the world, and worked in an art warehouse where he began experimenting with unusual materials. We wanted to honor his lifelong practice of experimentation, as well as his love for storytelling. For every day of the pop-up, John has come to co-host happy hour and visit with the community. 

John Petrucelli with the largest piece in his pop-up, A kid from Chicago.

Coming up next: Michelle Blade! This artist works in painting, illustration, sculpture and installation, with a dreamy style. (If you'd like a preview of her work, click here!) We're excited to share her work with you all, May 3 through June 4. Please join us for her opening reception Sunday, May 5 (3–5pm).

Michelle Blade, Springtime Devotional, 2019, acrylic ink and paint on satin, 32.75 x 28.25 inches

If it's been awhile since you stopped in Nationale, we hope to see you soon. We've got new books, a new issue of Apartamento, and smiles infused with the finest Vitamin D. 
—Jess

THINGS TO DO, THE OREGONIAN A&E

Shohei Takasaki’s “Where did you sleep last night?” featured in Things to Do in The Oregonian’s print edition yesterday.

Nationale for ALL the senses! by Jess Mcfadden

When you’re looking at art, is the experience all in your head? Thoughts, memories, questions and analysis are often associated with the mind rather than the body. However, the experience of standing in front of a painting has a unique way of reminding us that the body and mind are not separate.

Nationale may be a small place, but it has something for all the senses. When you first walk in, Marseille soaps and Olo fragrances offer a gentle scented welcome. Most people navigate the gallery counterclockwise, and the first thing they want to do in Nationale is flip through some of our books. The activity of flipping through books is a sensory treat for the hands, allowing us to touch and physically play with information as we read it. Plus, books make really nice sounds if you’ll listen. Even if you bring a friend to Nationale who doesn’t like socially relevant poetry, fiction and essays, they can enjoy the sound of paper’s friction.

This month, we’ve been exhibiting Soft Shades by Lilian Martinez. In addition to the show’s ideological and formal strengths, it is a visceral delight. The paintings’ sunny pastel colors are delicious, transporting us like a weekend getaway to LA, where Martinez resides. Something about her style of painting sends ASMR-style tingles down my back. The soft, luxurious texture of her acrylic on linen is amplified by large, blocky color fields and harmonious compositions. Delicately painted lines and the intimate, reverent depiction of strong women at rest induce a physical sensation of ease. In a weird way, the experience of looking at these paintings feels like having my hair brushed by my mother or friend. Did you have this type of experience with Soft Shades, too? If you haven’t been able to see the exhibition it will be up one more day: through March 11.

Lilian Martinez, Woman Reclined, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 30 x 24 inches

In the hallway near Martinez’s paintings, there are stacks of woven blankets and pillows from her line of everyday objects, BFGF.  Due to the variety of blankets, we get to unfold them one at a time to see what’s inside, then refold. They bring out the softness in her paintings and transform it into something you can snuggle.

Double Figure throw, courtesy of BFGF

To conclude a sensory tour of Nationale, you can find two kinds of French lozenge candies at the desk. “Sève de Pin” and “Anise” may be unfamiliar flavors, but don’t worry. They are both delicious!

If you work in an environment that requires a lot of brain power, it can be easy to forget about the five senses. Especially during winter, it sometimes feels like the mind and body are two separate entities. As our clocks turn forward and the sun comes out, now is a great time to bring them back together. So come see us at Nationale! We even have floor-to-ceiling windows, for maximum sunshine and minimum pre-spring chills.

INTERVIEW: LILIAN MARTINEZ

We are thrilled to welcome Gabi back to the Interview Series with a brand new feature. This week, she conversed with Los Angeles based artist Lilian Martinez in anticipation of Martinez’ first solo exhibition in Portland, OR. Soft Shades opens at Nationale this Sunday, February 3.

In Bed, 2018, acrylic on linen, 38 x 32 inches.

Gabi Lewton-Lepold: I'd like to start by asking you about the figures in your paintings. You paint women of color in a strong and tender way. These figures take up space, often filling the frame as if they are about to burst beyond the confines of the painting (thinking in particular of In Bed). What do these figures mean to you—do you envision their bodies to be claiming space? 

Lilian Martinez: In Bed and Pastel Caves are based on newer sketches / ideas. I do feel like lately I have been thinking about occupying space more. Particularly in spaces that were not designed for me. Like many people of color, I experience nuances of racism on an everyday basis. Occupying space feels empowering and delightful to me. Possibly these personal feelings are being projected on to my work. It is important to me that the subjects I paint emanate a sense of comfort even if they occupy the whole frame. I think for me that has to do with the composition of the frame and the colors surrounding the subjects. 

GLL: The scale and purposely off proportions of your figures are really intriguing and unexpected. For me, it removes the impulse to fetishize the female form (as so much of western painting has done), and instead brings out a sense of celebration, joy, and even humor. Can you share your thinking behind pairing small heads with robust bodies? 

Portrait (for Le Oui), 2018, 4 color silkscreen print, 24 x 18 inches.

LM: I paint large figures because I think they look beautiful and strong. I proportion the heads to be smaller because I feel like it emphasis the strength in the shoulders. There is something playful and visually beautiful about these proportions to me. I do intentionally de-sexualize the subjects that I paint. Woman are sexualized a majority of their lives starting at a very young age. I don't want to contribute to the normalization of that culture. That being said, I don't paint with those intentions in mind. I make images that I think are beautiful and joyful. I only really start to think about why I am choosing to make this type of work after the work is completed. I paint because it's fun for me and it improves my quality of life. I feel very fortunate that the images resonate with other people, especially women.   

GLL: The fact that you paint because you enjoy it and it enriches your life resonates with me, and I'm sure with many people. I'm not a painter, but I find that if I have any kind of creative project going I feel more alive. Can you share a bit about your background and how you came to painting? 

LM: I studied photography in college. I really struggled with it because I could never capture the image as I imagined it. When I started drawing and painting it was very liberating. I felt more in control and it was really fun. I realize now that I studied photography because I had a strong desire to make images. Photography seemed like the most accessible medium at that point in my life. 

GLL: I've only been to LA once, but I can still see the light of LA—the pinks, browns, tans, and the greens of the cacti and succulents—in your paintings. How does place inform your work? 

Woman Reclined, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 30 x 24 inches.

LM: The sun is really strong here. It can make colors look washed out and bright. I read that Matisse's palette changed when he moved to the south of France. I was really excited to get the opportunity to visit Nice, France last summer. I do feel like I could see the colors and settings reflected in Matisse's work. I think location can play a role in inspiration if you allow it. I try to find inspiration wherever I go. It's something I am always thinking about. 

GLL: In your BESE feature you speak about being a kid and feeling like didn't belong fully to being American or Mexican, that you didn't fit in completely to either identity, but as you got older you discovered that there's a "new type of American" that can take things from each culture that speaks to them. Can you talk about how your art practice combines these two identities?

LM: In the images I make I like to combine elements that make sense to me visually. These things can seem unrelated but they are relevant to my experience and my interests. I think in this same way immigrants and children of immigrants like myself integrate things into their lives that resonate with them. 

GLL: In addition to your art practice you also run a small business, BFGF, where you make and sell woven versions of your work. When did you start BFGF and can you tell us about the process of making these pieces? How do you select what images will become part of BFGF? 

Tropical Shadows, woven blanket 71 x 53 inches.

LM: My objective with BFGF is to make functional art objects that people can integrate into their home and their everyday life. I started BFGF about 5-6 years ago. I wanted to make tactile objects. Things that you could touch and use. The images I use for BFGF pieces are digital illustrations. I started drawing digitally before I started painting. It was a good transitional medium from photography to painting. 

GLL: In both your paintings and your BFGF pieces, you often juxtapose figures with symbols and imagery that recall 90s pop culture—characters from The Simpsons, Nike swooshes, basketballs. In some works the Nike swishes are on vases or pots, which feels like a playful melding of eras—Greco-Roman influences with contemporary culture. Can you share a bit about your use of this imagery in your work? 

LM: Nike, basketball and The Simpsons are things from my childhood that I feel like still occupy space in contemporary culture. They still feel relevant to me.  I like to pair them with classical architectural elements because there is something humorous and interesting about it to me. Maybe that is part of the first generation experience. It is a remix of my experiences and my interests. 

Thank you, Lilian and Gabi!

HOT TAKE ON HOOPS by Jess Mcfadden

Curiosity lives in the artist, who walks through life asking questions. The artist cultivates sensitivity and patience, turning curiosity into projects. A gallery presents the projects of artists, for anyone who is willing to come spend some time with the art. What happens next? The art lives in those who have considered it, and enriches their curiosity as they walk through life.

Kate Towers brings curiosity full circle in her current show Hoops, a pop-up at Nationale. What used to be basketball hoops are now explosive woven sculptures. Wild combinations of fabric, cords, synthetic plants, yarn, and natural materials transform a commonly overlooked public fixture into something new.

Glucose, 2018, mixed media, 23.5 (h) x 12 x 1 15 inches

Each hoop puts a unique spin on Towers' concept and materials. Glucose, with its fluorescent yellow and pink knit body, entices viewers' playful inner child. It appears next to Paleo, whose aesthetic is more somber: a single black cord tangled up in itself. Both are deliberate yet expressive. Glucose has a looser body, while Paleo's stiffness resists gravity.

Paleo, 2018, mixed media, 26 (h) x 9 x 12 inches

Collagen Peptide, with a refined color palette and seductive textural details, speaks to Towers' background as a fashion designer. Her clothing sometimes incorporates elements of sportswear into modern, flowy garments. In her fashion design as well as hoop design, traditionally feminine aesthetics play with rougher athletic vibes. She seems to question the expectations of three worlds: fashion, sport and art.

Collagen Peptide, 2018, mixed media, 25 (h) x 12 x 15 inches

Two hoops, Plant Based and Gluten Free weave plant shapes for a more organic vibe. Speaking of organic, did Towers use food and diet-related titles to fortify the corporeal connection between art, sport and fashion? Either way, this body of work is inspiring. It feeds our imagination and invites us to see new possibilities in everyday fixtures. Towers reconsiders something we may normally pass without seeing: the iconic metal rim. She honors creativity in its purest form. She explores a wide variety of materials, abstractly and conceptually, while carefully honoring the desires of each material.

Plant Based, 2018, mixed media, 22 (h) x 17 x 19 inches

Hoops has been extended to January 29, so if you haven't made it in yet, now's your chance! The work photographs well, but it's a slam dunk IRL.

Kate Towers' HOOPS pop-up extended!

Now on view through Tuesday, January 29, 2019! Please email for a checklist (info@nationale.us)

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KATE TOWERS | hoops

Nationale welcomes 2019 with HOOPS, a pop up from designer & artist Kate Towers. With her series of sculptural (and lightly functional) indoor basketball hoops, Towers uniquely merges sport, art, and fashion. Woven and sewn from myriad materials including ropes, textile scraps, paper, and dried reeds, these hoops have an intentionally haphazard and eclectic vibe. They are an extension of Towers’ clothing designs; indeed, she has been experimenting with sport and fashion for years, often sewing athletic stripes down the sides of her garments, and gleaning inspiration from the aesthetics of sports culture.

Come by Nationale on Sunday, January 13 (3–5 p.m.) to toast to the New Year and shoot some hoops—but please, no dunking! :-)

Kate Towers is a Portland-based clothing designer. Self-taught through experimentation, an artist vision, and hands-on execution, her non-seasonal, one-of-a-kind pieces often borrow inspiration from nature, team sports, motherhood, and various themes of life. From 2000 to 2008, Towers was co-founder and co-owner of Seaplane, a renowned specialty shop in Portland featuring local designers and an innovative collection of hand-made clothing. It is there that Towers developed her own line and helped inspire the fashion scene that is now Portland.

On view January 10–January 22, 2019
Opening reception Sunday, January 13 (3–5 p.m.)

In Celebration of the Magazine

By Jess Mcfadden

Remember when smartphones were invented? We feared the death of print.
Some people believe that reading from a screen is best, because it is efficient. 
For the rest of us, magazines are a magical treasure. They are not curated by an algorithm, but by people who poured their time into a periodical-- something that will not live forever. Each page is like a love letter, hoping to inspire us. It defies the logic of urban culture, instead encouraging us to linger awhile. To explore with curiosity, instead of rushing from point A to point B.

The soft pages of a magazine like Apartamento combine art and enriching interviews with the unintimidating welcome of a phonebook. $20 to $26, depending on the issue, permits you a rainy afternoon or few to share space with creatives across the world, and hear their stories. Watercolor, photography, drawing and interior design are neighbors in Apartamento, living beside each other with varied degrees of comfort. Their conversations are always worthwhile.

If a magazine inspires you enough, might you break out scissors and cut it up, transforming the work into something else? Collages from an art magazine will naturally turn out better than from those with retouched bodies and flashy advertisements.

If you're shopping for holiday gifts, magazines are good for any budget. Use one magazine to make stacks of greeting cards, or give stacks of magazines to one beloved!

Commissioned essay by Corey Mansfield

Ty Ennis’ The Marble Fountain is on view through December 30, 2018

When we are young, the world appears full of magic. We are the center of our universe- we know of little beyond our guided travels. Time equals now. The past is a vague sentiment alluded to in passing by patronizing adults. Of course, how could we fully grasp our place within history having only been a part of it for such a small time? As we age though, this credulity towards the significance of our present yellows and fades. The once glorified landmarks of our hometown no longer hold the same power. Knowledge broadens our scope and awakens our anxieties, ultimately rousing nostalgia for the innocence and the simplicity of what once appeared to be. 

The paintings of Portland-based artist Ty Ennis on view for his solo exhibition The Marble Fountain at Nationale exist within this reflective tendency. Scenes culled from his recent memory are presented alongside a medley of melancholic dreams, holiday lore, and subtle references to aesthetic predecessors. In this manner, the various facts of Ennis’ biography unravel into a loose interpretation of what once was. 

Ty Ennis, Mardi Gras, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 24 x 18 inches

Unable to replicate the naive enchantment of his youth, Ennis’ work instead focuses on the indeterminacy of aging—the space between then and now, them and us, here and there. There is a pervasive feeling of looking in. We are rarely situated within the canvas but remain slightly disconnected by borders like a window or even a faint green frame. In Cinéma (Paris) and Cinéma No. 2, for example, Ennis recreates a simple scene that he encountered during a recent trip to France. Instead of freezing the moment’s objective particulars through a photograph, Ennis attempts to capture its aura, its subjective allure, through two paintings based solely on his now-faded recollection of the encounter. Perhaps mirroring this distance between the time of the scene’s occurrence and his painting of it, the work exudes a feeling of haziness. From across a pathway of hoary brushstrokes and through the outlines of a building’s façade, we glimpse the fuzzy silhouettes of two women at a local cinema. This physical remove, however, allows us little else in terms of interpretation. From such a distance, we remain lost in the unknown—do the two figures recognize one another’s presence? Are they friends conversing or separate individuals lost within their own quotidian reveries? We, as outsiders, can only speculate. 

Ty Ennis, Cinéma No. 2, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 11 x 14 inches

Analogous to this specific utilization of space, Ennis’ scenes often depict only the aftereffects of an action. In And so It Goes, he depicts two large, white pills left next to a half-empty glass of water and an overstuffed pink ashtray on a small table. A chair pushed away from the table suggests someone having recently gotten up. Outside of these minute indicators, there is nothing else within the frame for us to decipher. A window, for example, looks out only onto an opaque mass of white paint and the surrounding walls appear, meanwhile, like a void of a shadowy grey brushstrokes. Yet, despite this minimalism, the scene effectively evokes a familiar, forlorn impression of departure. Ennis seems to suggest that, like memories, the particulars matter less than the overall sensation. 

Ty Ennis, And so It goes, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 12 x 16 inches

In Yur’s, a man stands with one hand resting on a jukebox. His pose suggests that of someone waiting for their photo to be taken, thereby echoing the painted portrait that hangs by his head on a nearby wall. Through this visual parallel, Ennis evokes a larger conception of lineage—of the shift in time from ancestor to predecessor, from painting to photography, from fact to fiction.

Ty Ennis, Yur’s, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 16 x 12 inches

Ennis further encourages this historicizing process throughout the exhibition by both his frequent use of a black and white palette and his loose painterly style. Viewed together in this manner, Ennis’ work, like adulthood, lacks a fixed center. It is nothing but an entropic, yet, deep down, still unbelievably magical force. 
—Corey Mansfield, Los Angeles, CA

This commissioned essay is made possible by Career Opportunity Grants from both the Oregon Arts Commission and The Ford Family Foundation.

Creative writing on Ty Ennis' solo exhibition, "The Marble Fountain"

Fountain of Time by Jess Mcfadden

Summer Candle (Méaudre), 2018, acrylic on canvas, 14 x 11 inches

A painter sits at his desk, quietly gazing into a candle's flame. Between working full-time and raising a daughter, it's rare to arrive at such a moment of solitude. Memories come back, from his younger days in a small town. He remembers mischievous schoolboys, pressuring him to be more masculine. He remembers a monologue in someone's living room. A face... an expression... The memories are not formatted; some of them are missing pieces. Faces fade into one another. Occasionally the straight vertical line of a nose will almost return the artist to his seat at the desk, in front of that long, straight candle. Time continues to pass.

Shadow People, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 14 x 11 inches

With his current show at Nationale, The Marble Fountain, Ty Ennis invites viewers into formative memories and dreams. Many of his paintings contain a quiet sense of horror, amplified by a lack of color.

Netta Fornario, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 16 x 12 inches

Above any one narrative, they express something specific to paint: the way textures communicate on a flat canvas. From aggressive and thick to diluted and watery, Ennis explores the possibilities of combination freely. A fuzzy quality unites the medium with its content. In Orlando, the largest painting on display, an androgynous bride gazes out, far into the distance.

Orlando, 2018, acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 inches

Around the back corner of the gallery, one scene is repeated in two paintings: a mysterious observation of two doorways. Depending where you stand, both of these grayscale paintings are visible at the same time. Cinema No. 2 hangs on a wall directly behind Cinema (Paris) with slightly less contrast, feeling like a ghost of the original memory. 

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"Cinéma (Paris)"

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"Cinéma No. 2"

Although this body of work is extremely personal, it isn't narcissistic. Instead, Ennis encourages viewers to enter into his memories, as themselves, to form their own interpretations, and remember their own stories. With these works, he seems to have relinquished personal ego in favor of a common experience.

FRANCESCA CAPONE'S NIGHT FOG // CAPSULE REVIEW BY LUIZA LUKOVA

Francesca Capone
Night Fog (As the object grows, it curves around the forms of its surrounding shapes)
2018, Lostine long wool, poly netting line, and cotton on oak board, 24 x 22 inches

Nestled in the backroom between an Amy Bernstein painting and an Emily Counts sculpture is Francesca Capone’s Night Fog, part of her solo exhibition at Nationale entitled Think of Seashells.

As a weaver and a poet, Capone approaches her work from a visual as well as a literary mindset. The prose attributed to this particular work by the artist reads as follows: As the object grows, it curves around the forms of its surrounding shapes, and it feels as if this is precisely how Night Fog operates in the context of the show as a whole. Although it may be the final work a visitor may see tucked away as it is, its bold resonance does indeed curve to the viewing experience and serve to form a lasting impression. As a gallery-goer moves through the space, they are gathering growing memories of the body of work in total. Culminating with Night Fog, this particular piece stands somewhat solitary, both due to its location but also to its composition. Mounted on oak board, this is only one of two weavings that is presented in this manner. Yet, this doesn’t detract from its overall relation to the remaining pieces -- the oak nicely completes oceanic visions of seashells and driftwood that Capone brings into the space. The poly netting line similarly compliments other found materials such as the flotsam rope, plastic bags, and beach refuse that are embedded into the fiber of the hangings.

The dark colors of this particular weaving are slightly more drastic than the inviting pastels of the other works, yet they correspond nicely with its placement. If Night Fog were the last work to be seen, it would leave viewers with a cool imagery of things closing, things coming to a rest. Invoking a kind of serenity that can only be found with the setting of the sun on a calm evening, Night Fog creates a comfortable sensory shroud for viewers to come in contact with. The day has come and gone and grown into night, which silently and cooly forms to this nightly ritual. Take a deep breath, let the fog ebb over you, and think of seashells.

SARAH MIKENIS: WILLAMETTE WEEK

We were thrilled to see our current exhibition by Sarah Mikenis in print this week in The Willamette Week (The Five Art Openings We're Most Excited to See This Week, Shannon Gormley, July 4).

The show was also featured on Juxtapoz Magazine, Oregon ArtsWatch, and in The Oregonian.
On view through August 3, 2018.