Artists Bloom In Darkness

Scott Azevedo’s Untitled (A Delightful Children’s Room) appears somehow both peaceful and volatile. Peaceful because of what it depicts, a woman sitting in a cozy room, and the colors chosen — warm and vibrant. But something in the execution makes the image unstable, like a half-lost memory, full of glitches and errors. The lines emanating from the figure might be flames. The person in the painting may be cherished, but the perception of her is somehow shot through with difficulty.

The piece is part of ​“Florenciendo en La Obscuridad,” which translates to ​“blooming in the darkness,” a three-artist show running now at the Ely Center of Contemporary Art at 51 Trumbull St. through Feb. 23. It’s running concurrently with four solo shows, by artists Perla Mabel, Krystyna Printup, Peter Brown, and Kristi Arnold.

The show is the result of the work of three artists — Azevedo, Odette Chavez-Mayo, and Miguel Mendoza — who all participated in ECOCA’s Keyhole Workspace Artists in Residence program in the fall of 2024. As an accompanying note states, ​“serendipity emerged throughout the residency, as the artists found unexpected moments of overlap in their work and life, especially through their shared heritage. Mendoza was born and raised in Mexico, only moving to the States in adulthood; Chavez-Mayo was born in Mexico and raised in Texas, and Azevedo is American-born and has been chipping away at the mysteries of his Mexican grandparents. Despite working in very different aesthetics, the three found connections in their stories and iconography. ​‘Florenciendo en La Obscuridad’ presents their search for family connections — new, old, and imagined.”

Azevedo used the residence to focus on ​“restoring a great absence” — that of paternal grandmother Marian Rebecca DeWitt (Carrillo). ​“During my formative years I never fully understood how profound her absence has been on my family’s trajectory and the generational trauma that has permeated every aspect of my existence,” the artist writes. Engaging with it ​“began the process of restoration and the healing of a queer brown boy who desperately needed unconditional love. These paintings are portals into the manifestation of her memory, her love, and recovery.” Untitled and Azevedo’s other pieces in the show convey both the affection the artist feels and the harrowing journey of coming to terms with family history.

Similarly, for Odette Chavez-Mayo, the residence was ​“an opportunity for me to process old undeveloped film photographs I had stored away during a long pause from art-making,” the artist writes in an accompanying statement. ​“In my desire to recreate a home for myself in my art practice, I discovered that I had old wounds to transform and bring closure to, much like the abandoned photos that needed to be developed in the darkroom.”

Chavez-Mayo took the pictures ​“in my grandmother’s home in Mexico at a time where her physical health was declining in conjunction with her mental health. As her primary caretaker, it was an experience that forced me to confront my own struggles with depression.” Taking pictures of her grandmother in decline became ​“a mirror that I could no longer refuse to look into, an initiation into my own journey through the wells of grief stored in the body and its ancestral memory.”

The process of analog photography itself became a metaphor for healing,” and ​“sifting through images and identifying symbols helped me create my own mythopoetic language to play with in my work, which ultimately helped me alchemize my darkest and heaviest experiences into a resource of strength and courage in the true sense of the word — to have heart.”

Among Chavez-Mayo’s powerful images, Innana perhaps most sharply conveys what the artist went through. In questions about the relation of photographer to subject, many conversations revolve around ideas of consent, and the power the photographer can have over the people being photographed. But Chavez-Mayo’s image shows that the photographer is vulnerable too. They may not appear in the images they create, but when photographers exposes the film to light, they expose parts of themselves, too.

If Azevedo and Chavez-Mayo are working from their own struggles in relation to the struggles of others, Miguel Mendoza is tilted more toward the latter. The artist seeks to ​“capture the essence of magical realism” and ​“reflect the rich tapestry of my cultural heritage, rooted in the traditions and warmth of Oaxaca, México, and extending beyond its borders,” as an accompanying statement reads. Mendoza also works to ​“celebrate the inherent beauty of Hispanic women” in portraits that show ​“the resilience and perseverance of those who navigate the complexities of life in this country.” 

Placed in relation to Azevedo’s and Chavez-Mayo’s pieces, Mendoza’s pieces help give a sense of the places of healing Azevedo and Chavez-Mayo may be seeking, a place that allows for a keen feeling of earned hope. All three artists show how the journeys they’re on will likely never end — and that there’s strength in traveling together.

“Florenciendo en la Obscuridad” runs at the Ely Center of Contemporary Art, 51 Trumbull St., through Feb. 23. Visit the gallery’s website for hours and more information about ​“Florenciendo” and other shows currently on view.