Artists Embrace Change, Transformation

It’s not entirely clear what New Haven-based artist Can Yağız’s image is of, though in its first iteration it has just enough shape to suggest a prone human form. If it’s a person, are they sleeping or dying? In either case, the image itself is about decay, the loss of light, shape, defined borders. But there’s acceptance in it, too, an embrace and investigation of change. 

In ​“Not Today Either,” Can Yağız examines what happens when things slowly start to fall apart. ​“Similar to the first cold day of the year, when you grab a coat you haven’t worn in a while and put your hands in the pockets, and find a piece of a receipt, a used tissue, a caramel wrapper, and a band-aid, also used. And not recognize who these fragments belong to,” Yağız writes in an accompanying statement. 

“I thought of self as something innate, an enduring thread for the most part. Though it is more fragile; self can fragment, dissipate.” In Yağız’s art, the ​“degradation … is integral to how I contemplate themes of belonging, selfhood, and decay. In addition, I approach this degradation through printing monotypes in succession without cleaning the plate, so the image degrades with each subsequent print.” 

A preoccupation with change suffuses a few of the solo shows at the Ely Center of Contemporary Art, running now through Aug. 4. 

In Lawrence Morell’s show ​“Remembrance,” the pieces on display are the result of a change of location regarding where the artist makes his art. ​“When Morelli decided to downsize his space, he became creative in where and how to work,” an accompanying note states. 

“No longer using models for large scale paintings, Morelli has been sitting at G Café in New Haven, painting outside in small notebooks. He has been working from intense memories of places throughout his life, spanning from California, Michigan, New York and Connecticut. Each work has the date of its creation as well as the location and date of the memory.” 

From form to function. Morelli has embraced the ephemeral. His choice of location means he has to work quickly. Relying on memory inevitably involves compromise and improvisation. The style, method, and subjects dovetail, as the fast painting evokes the energetic vividness of the memory even as it admits that so many details can’t be recalled.

The works by Emily Weiskopf were ​“primarily made up of palm stems and fronds” retrieved from ​“forest fires, ice storms and deforestation around the country. Some of these incidents occurred just feet from my own home,” she writes in an accompanying statement. 

“The works in this exhibition aim to bring contemplation and new narratives between us and the earth. I believe that the notion of care cannot be separated from the notion of harmony with Nature. I consider architecture, formal elements, traditions of ancient and Indigenous art, and utilizing familiar historical craft techniques as a visual language in which to further explore critical environmental and social quandaries of our time. I aim to build consciousness and healing while emphasizing social impact alongside environmental concerns that reimagine the politics and ethics of care while drawing out a balance between artistic intervention and the raw material.” 

In her work, Weiskopf is looking to change not only subject matter, but how those pieces are created in the first place, and from what, to make art that can still be made in the future.

With ​“SDED,” meanwhile, Adrian Panaitisor is concerned with making sure we continue to know how to see. ​“The new millennium invites the artist to keep up with its complex understanding of reality. The bridge between painting and sculpture (a philosophical dimension) can be achieved visually with the use of several flat surfaces, canvas strips, optical illusion, and real objects,” Panaitisor writes. 

“SDED” refers to the fact that the pieces are ​“neither two-dimensional nor three-dimensional. His work … addresses points of scientific breakthroughs and discoveries while literally breaking through a painting’s surface. His reverence to optical illusions beckons the viewer for double and triple inspections for dissection; much as we need to see the world around us, though a critical lens.” 

Our visual environment — especially on our phones and on social media — just keeps getting more complicated. Panaitisor points to how vital it is that we continue to know how to read it all. 

In ​“Reminiscent Reflection,” Esthea Kim pulled her piece from a room in the Ely Center itself — a room that in turn captured her curiosity. The installation was ​“born in a small attic space. Dark and old, the room is shaped like a capital A underneath the bar in the middle, yet a window facing the street lets in plenty of light,” she writes. 

“Materials in hand, scraped and collected for intended use of another sculpture, remnants from a recent (de)installation, a noticeable color discrepancy on the wooden floor, and a sanctuary of angled ceiling covered in tearing-down wallpaper seem to be scarce of things to begin with. The air in the room must have been filthy with collected dust and things over time, but the light itself isn’t. A beam of light brings in all the contrasting freshness, springiness, and liveliness from the outside, penetrating right through the hard glass surface.”

Kim’s piece is also a study of change, and not just the beginning and end points, but the shifting time in between. ​“Observing the passing time and changing light … during the daylight sparks condensed memories of certain days, events, or emotions, all in a smoothly progressive yet swift motion. A change of a material state — from solid to liquid, cold to warm, young to old — can be documented simply as before and after, but the process in between is rather ambiguous for a clean definition, thus often referred to as a state of chaos or a journey to the unknown,” she writes. ​“The change in state causes us to look forward to the future while also reflecting on the past.”

Línda Perla-Giron’s installation ​“Corn-munion,” meanwhile, seeks to create the kernel for a new faith. Earlier in the show’s run, Perla-Giron conducted a half-hour religious service focusing on the divinity of corn. 

“It’s giving drag. It’s giving Our Father Who Art Corn,” they write of that service. ​“It’s giving theater of a mythical self. It’s giving memories that all seem to slip into themselves and become a new history to be passed down instead of digging up what seemed to never be yours to begin with. It’s giving a moment to settle into corn-munity care and breathe together — only happens on Sundays.” 

An obvious sense of humor pervades the installation, but there’s serious intent behind it. Handmade hymnals are available for worship, and the space remains a place for quiet contemplation, perhaps of a set of beliefs that connects that much more explicitly to ancestors and nature, which may be enough.

Perla-Giron finds a kindred spirit in Ramón Bonilla’s show, ​“Miradero.” ​“In Bonilla’s artwork the concept of degrowth is used to propose a downshifting from a boundless economic expansion and unsustainable consumption to a post-consumerist future addressing current environmental and social issues,” an accompanying statement reads. 

“Resource depletion decelerates to achieve ecological flourishing, social equity and quality of life. Furthermore, Bonilla’s personal notions about the metaphysical encompassing beliefs about God, existence, the Cosmos, a non-material realm transcending our observable physical domain and the afterlife provide an additional dimension to the discourse of degrowth and sustainability in his work. These seemingly disparate ideas intersect in profound ways. 

“Alternative futures of human progress prompt reflection of humanity’s longing for harmony, purpose, and interconnectedness. Prosperity beyond material accumulation conveyed through principles of simplicity, frugality and conviviality. By pointing to the concept of the afterlife his work considers the transcendence of our actions, a purposeful life, our relation to the Cosmos and our legacy after exiting this world. His work contemplates ways of thinking about responsible stewardship of the environment, the importance of ethical conduct and towards materialistic world views. It is a call to transcend notions of progress based solely on material wealth and shift towards an existence fulfilled by cultivating a profound sense of fellowship, gratitude, and respect for life. 

“Using his imagination and resilience in the face of systemic barriers and harsh realities, Bonilla finds solace in an enduring hope for a brighter tomorrow, whether in this life or beyond. Through his artwork Bonilla aims to spark conversations about possible futures.”

In this, Bonilla is not alone. Taken together, the solo shows suggest multiple paths forward into what’s coming — paths that are less about fear and mourning, and more about changing and growing, running headlong into adaptation. Do we really have much a choice?

For hours and more information on the ECOCA’s solo shows, which all close Aug. 4, visit the gallery’s website.