Modern Art for People Who Hate Modern Art (Thank you, Cheryl Krause)

I don’t know Cheryl Krause personally. I’ve never met her. To the best of my knowledge, I’ve never seen any of her artwork before, either. But her latest show at the Bloomington Art Center -- “Pieces of a Whole” -- made me glad I spent a hazy summer afternoon getting acquainted with her budding genius. Note that I’m fully disclosing my lack of familiarity with this artist early in the article. I want to make sure readers recognize that my enthusiasm springs from personal, subjective opinion -- and not from nepotism or any commercial reasons. In other words, my praise involves no ulterior motive or conflict of interest. Although this glowing review of her work might sound like it’s coming from a loyal BFF or adoring relative, it isn’t. I’m neither Bloomington Art Center Booster nor Ms. Krause’s proud parent. I’m just a writer and creative thinker who respects real talent. That’s what I see, anyway, in her paintings: profound, unadulterated artistic ability. Her work is a triumph of vibrant color and depth-defying spatial energy. Wow. That combination doesn’t seem possible. Neither does her way of handling color. Colors that move and evolve and actually make you feel good? Nonrepresentational forms of stunning, jewel-like colors that exemplify abstract expressionism? Beautiful Modern Art that you might actually be able to afford to buy and then (gasp!) hang in your living room? Somebody pinch me. She’s not an artist, she’s a painterly soceress of abstract expressionism. And I hate abstract expressionism! For me, that contemporary genre is just another bastard child of the atrocity we call “Modern Art” and -- Whoa. Wait a minute. Before I continue, let’s go over the definition of abstract expressionism, just to make sure we’re both on the same page -- uh, same canvas. The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language offers one of the better explanations of this genre. It defines it as “A school of painting that flourished after World War II until the early 1960’s, characterized by its emancipation from traditional brushwork in freely developing shape and design by its exclusion of representational content.” So we’re talking about that kind of Modern Art that elicits the familiar reaction of “I don’t understand it, I just know what I like.” Which, as you probably guessed, is code for “ I don’t know what the hell this is, and I don’t like it.” Krause’s work, on the other hand, can generate an entirely different response. After viewing her work, I positively responded with, “I don’t know what this is, I’m not sure what this is supposed to represent, but I like it. I really like it.” So what sets her work apart from all the other modern artists who have embraced abstract expressionism? For me, it’s the color. It’s her choices of color and how she handles color on the canvas... That’s what really distinguishes Krause from all the other abstract expressionists who don’t like color and don’t really know how to effectively use it. Too many abstract expressionists use a palette from the garbage can. They use lots of browns, grays, and other murky combinations that look worn and dirty on the canvas. Almost as though there’s some international law that prohibits their colors from being too pleasing, too interesting, too colorful. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s some kind of “guy thing.” Like that unwritten law that compels “real men” never to wear pink -- or other pretty pastel shades. All I know is that most modern art leaves me feeling sad and empty and longing for a full-length technicolor cartoon. Too much greige always makes me feel depressed. In fact, if I spend too much time with butt-ugly colors in a gallery, I start getting paranoid. It starts feeling like some dysfunctional artists have created artwork just for me, just to assault the rods and cones in my eyes. Not so with Ms. Krause and her paintings. The brilliant jewel-like tones in her palette depict nothing representational yet almost seem alive. Every one of her paintings exudes movement, passion, flow and complexity. While other abstract expressionists might seem too obsessed with studying a dirty window, Krause sees beyond the greige and finds a shocking red rose. Of course, these free-form shapes she creates in stunning colors and effortless brushstrokes can also look like anything you imagine them to be. When I saw “In The Moment,” for example, a slab of white marble started forming before my eyes. The watery blues and greens of “Reflection” naturally evoked a sensation of running water. “Show of Force” rekindled memories of summer storm clouds in the distance. And “Devoted II” made me witness exploding peonies against the night sky. But her work can be anything you want it to be because it’s at once larger than life and more minute than actual size. By allowing these forms of color to take individual shape, the artist allows us to perceive both inside and outside viewpoints. It’s as if we’re getting a bird’s eye view of an expanding canvas, while at the same time, getting a microscopic look inside a tiny cocoon at ground zero. In her paintings Krause gives us an aerial view that expands our awareness outward, yet also burrows into the visceral insides of the same scene. This complex perspective is hard to describe, let alone achieve. The best analogy I can give to help you understand this spatial feat comes from the operating table. Some patients in the operating room have reported seeing themselves being operated on from above. As though they’re floating above the operating table and looking down on their own respective operations. As though they’re magically able to see(and feel) both viewpoints of patient and aerial observer at the same time. Krause does something similar to this in her paintings. So how does she do it? How is Krause able to achieve this eerie perspective that both startles and reassures us? In her Artist Statement, a possible explanation is given: The body of work in this exhibition was inspired by a 12x12 inch painting I completed the beginning of 2011. A few months into 2011, I suffered a ruptured brain aneurysm, which affected my concentration and cognition. In the months that followed, my senses and abilities began to recover. I wanted to paint again but was having some difficulties so I studied the small 12x12 inch painting. I noticed numerous small paintings within the painting. By sectioning off portions of the painting and enlarging them, I was able to focus and see new, creative possibilities within each section. At times the enlarged sections were themselves enlarged. This gave me opportunities to create new paintings inspired by small sections of the original. Some of the finished paintings can be easily identified within the original painting while others cannot, but all sprang from the original. Could it be that her life-threatening aneurysm also opened up a new pathway for her creativity? Could her suffering have stimulated her mind’s eye into seeing a radically different reality? Is it possible that this rupture in her brain also enabled her to depict a perspective that had been previously inaccessible to her? Maybe. I think a ruptured brain aneurysm might have imbued her brain cells with an entirely new creative vision. What’s truly remarkable here is how Krause made such a stunning recovery without any self-aggrandizement or maudlin announcements of the “courageous battle” she faced. If anyone should be publicly tooting her horn, it’s this artist. And yet, she’s been very modest and very low-key about her amazing recovery. No self-congratulatory PR. No long-winded descriptions about the “amazing journey” she’s traveled. No fluff, no puff about her innate heroism, either. Unusual yet oddly refreshing -- just like her paintings. What’s also nice: how reasonable the prices of her paintings are. All 24 acrylic paintings are for sale. They range in price from $170 for a 12”x 12” work (#18 “Parting Ways”), to $1950 for #5 “Unknown Passage” (48”x 48”). A lot of art lovers could actually BUY a work of fine art and proudly display it to enjoy each and every day. No, the prices aren’t dirt cheap. But for this kind of quality, the prices are surprisingly reasonable. An avid art enthusiast could easily purchase one of her paintings without going into bigtime credit card debt. Her paintings are on exhibit from June 12th through August 3rd. The Atrium Gallery (on the second floor) offers flexible, accessible viewing times. Mondays through Fridays, from 8 AM to 10 PM. Saturdays, from 9AM to 5PM. Sundays, from 1 PM to 10 PM. The only way this show could get any better would be if the Art Center held an ice cream social with names of flavors inspired by her paintings. Like August Orange Sherbet. Or Creating Blue Berries n’ Cream. Or Swept Away Lemon Gelato. (The possibilities and flavors would be endless.) With or without accompanying ice cream, though, these paintings are definitely must-see viewing. You should go.