Joe Brubaker’s carved figure alongside Chad Little’s “Emotional Support Valise” and “A Medley of Sudsy Palms and Tangled Fingers.”

Julie Nester and her staff have chosen women as the focus of their current show, the title of which, She Roars in Color, gives a good idea of why. This is not the opening salvo in the next battle of the sexes; rather, it might be in recognition or celebration of how far women have come since, for instance, they got the vote (1920) or the passage of no-fault divorce (1969). Hence the works included divide randomly between those by men and women artists.

In fact, it starts with Chad Little, whose “Emotional Support Valise” gazes back a few decades, without prejudice, to a time when a woman might consider a packed suitcase a boost to her confidence. Little captures a moment in history in several ways, starting with his subject’s hair, makeup and traveling attire, all of which speak of a time when such things were signs of independence no longer required. As for how these elements are presented, the color scheme comes from Polaroid film, no longer available and a sure hint to the date, while the subject has benefitted from Little’s love of painting skin, the power of which foregrounds her in front of one of his typically busy settings, as if to clarify what matters as well as who is in charge, at least here and now.

Jennifer Nehrbass, “Grace Is,” oil on wood panel, 20×16 in.

Jennifer Nehrbass, one of Julie Nester’s more innovative artists, plays regularly with how we are to interpret various painted elements. In “Grace Is,” the subject’s face is in sharp focus, while the background is an unfocused blur of greens and pinks. However, a segment of her hair on the near side and what would likely be shadows on the underside of her neck and hair on the far side have been overpainted in a way that suggests solarization, a process whereby a photographer prematurely overexposes the film, causing the values to invert in strange and often unpredictable ways. Credit for discovering this technique has long gone to Man Ray, but a better claim is made by his model and long-time collaborator, Lee Miller, who went on to become an important photographer in her own right. This blue area curves around the subject’s face in a way that makes it pop out, suggesting that one difference between the two mediums is that what would be a lucky accident in the camera may be a choice on the canvas.

In contrast to Little’s photo-realism, most of the works display a level of abstraction. Californian Chris Gwaltney often starts with figurative elements that in recent work more often end up as parts of an abstract dialogue. His “Be Ordinary” finds the upper half of a woman visible behind blocks of color that form a kind of maze that hinders her path towards the viewer. Northern California’s Linda Christensen—Nester’s grasp of artists from just beyond the Southwest is one of the main reasons to include her gallery in any trip to Park City—is one of several here who work exclusively with women as subjects, but declines to complete their external depictions on the grounds that to do so distracts the audience from their inner lives, which is her true topic.

David Leventhal is one of several of Nester’s artists who poses and manipulates toys to create friction between the image and how it comes about. He works a lot with gender roles, finding his men in sports or war and his women—often but not always Barbie dolls—as underdressed objects of contemplation and appreciation. With Carol O’Malia we witness a return to sharp focus, but often either of recreational objects and places—swimming pools and their accessories—or figures frozen in space. Titles like “Looking Ahead,” “Scanning the Horizon” or “Skimming the Surface” confirm the apparent activities, but leave the meaning of objects and the significance of the subjects’ engagement open to the imagination.

Abstracted women by Chris Gwaltney (left) and Linda Christensen (right) paired with Tor Archer’s wire sculpture, evoking inner lives through gestural paint and organic materials.

When Neil Innes wrote, “There are no coincidences, but sometimes the pattern is more obvious,” he could have been thinking of Brad Overton’s “Bikini Kill” and Scout Invie’s return to her roots through western attire ornamented with facts about rhinestones and similar cowboy genres. The garments in Overton’s work are found, rather than created, and the young lady wearing them appears before a background that connects her to Jackson Pollock, while Invie was born and raised in Jackson Hole. Even in the West, it seems the world is smaller than we realize.

Yoon Kim studied color science in grad school and worked for a decade as a cosmetic products planner, so it’s not hard to fathom her seeming determination to look twice at every face. A decade of cosmetic practice made her aware of the interplay of color and psyche, which she follows as it travels in both directions. Elaborate ornamentation in the environment reminds us of the even more elaborate forms within: the complexity of the inner life that we might otherwise erroneously give minimal dimensions and forms. The seriousness of her analysis is reflected in the somber expressions of her figures, while instead of the large events we remember, she finds expression for the myriad tiny details that comprise them.

Works by Yool Kim, whose layered surfaces explore psychological depth and ornamentation, transforming figures into intricate, symbolic compositions.

Philip Buller is the only artist in She Roars in Color that I’ve written about before. I urge anyone interested in the complexity of his “Gitana” and its controversial title to check out that article.

There are also a couple of sculptors here who are each responsible for numerous small but strongly characteristic works. Tor Archer is another artist who primarily employs figures of women, each of which is wrapped in a layer of material symbolic of her connection to the natural world. In his statement, he speaks of “twigs and branches, of roots, the veins of a leaf, looking up through the canopy of a tree, the way vines intertwine or the way plant matter is woven into a bird’s nest.” Perhaps the most compelling thing happens when, in place of wood, marble, or other material, the form of the invisible body is detectable only through the intervention of this material aura. On the other hand, Joe Brubaker works in wood, but in response to numerous cultural and religious approaches to figuration he’s encountered around the world. For all that they recall from other traditions, they remain uniquely his vision.

These are only a few of Julie Nester’s artists, but the keen, appropriate choices made from among them makes She Roars in Color a satisfying excursion into the Western American view of women in the lifetimes of eleven men and women who express themselves in original, material forms.

Brad Overton’s “Bikini Kill” beside Carol O’Malia’s poolside scenes, contrasting playfully staged identity with moments of quiet summer leisure.

She Roars in Color, Julie Nester Gallery, Park City, through October 1.

All images courtesy of the author.

Geoff Wichert

Geoff Wichert objects to the term critic. He would rather be thought of as a advocate on behalf of those he writes about.