Eidolon
MARGARET THOMPSON + JACQUELINE SHATZ
Two Person Exhibition with TYGER TYGER GALLERY
JUNE 9 - JULY 23, 2023
Margaret R. Thompson, In The Meadow Where The Creek Used To Rise, 2023, Oil and wax on canvas, 20" x 20"
Exhibition Statement:
Opening Reception: June 9, 5-8 pm
Rooted in dirt and flesh and water and light, Jacqueline Shatz and Margaret R. Thompson make art about transmutable states of being and intention. Narratives of energetic presence, fluidity, and symbolism proliferate: figurative beings shape-shift, dance and meld with objects and spaces humming with personification. The title of their two-person exhibition at Tyger Tyger Gallery, Eidolon, is an ancient term derived from Greek -oeidēs “form” but it sounds like it could be a location in a work of science fiction. Early meanings included “mental image”, “appearance”, and “reflection” (as in a mirror or pool), and later, “apparition” or “imaginary entity”, among other things. It fits: their work holds space for ethereality and density; they are storytellers whose imagery is as relatable and readable as it is mysterious and ever-expanding.
A sense of deepening into an individual state of reverie and contemplation communicates through Jacqueline Shatz’s wall-mounted, hand-sized figures in action. She works directly from visual prompts derived from other people’s paintings- sometimes ancient, sometimes contemporary. Her sculptures are ceramic, fired and then painted with Flashe and acrylic instead of traditional ceramic glazes. Working intuitively with the imagery and the clay, Shatz pulls pieces apart and collages them back together so that they form new associations. “These works ride the edge between painting and sculpture, between stillness and movement, between the figurative and the abstract. “I do not set out to express specific emotions. The meanings are first hidden as in dreams”, she explains. The hand-pinched, roughly described figures in her sculptures embrace, twist, reach and leap as they melt and collapse together with limbs fusing and looping into abstract arabesques. Ambiguous and chimeric, steeped in storytelling and mythology, their existence is the embodiment of liminality, portals, and transition.
Color slips through cracks of association and possibility as layers of paint scumble over the soft lumpiness of her forms, sometimes adhering to a childlike association of certain colors with certain objects, and sometimes not. In The Green Door, an azure blue lion hovers before a translucent green door shape made of wire and fabric. It references Peter Doig’s paintings depicting a warm golden orange lion, yellow walls and green doors. It also conjures C.S. Lewis’ Aslan from The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe with the door as a possible stand-in for the magical wardrobe that becomes a hallway to Narnia. As with all Shatz’ sculptures, everything is melded together as one object. The lion could be the door, or the door could grow from the lion, or the lion enters, or exits. We are invited, perhaps. The effect of the image collapsed into physical form expands and distills the fractal meanings of these potent signifiers, much like a painting but dislodged from the confines of an illustrated space. Diana Huntress is an example of a popular, immediately recognizable mythological subject whose power, wildness, independence is articulated in a gesture of pulling the bow. Here, the arc of the arm has no sharp bend at the elbow, instead mimicking the roundness of the bow itself inviting us to consider Diana’s abstracted body as the arrow itself. It’s a formidable concept, but the sculpture feels sweet, playful, and hand-drawn. She doesn’t care what we think of her. She is not about the male gaze; she’s not your fantasy; she doesn’t give a shit about you; she is pure and unadulterated. We see her. We are her. This is power. Speaking of power and liberation, in all of Jacqueline Shatz’ works, painting is a player: indeed, she eschews traditional ceramic glazes altogether in favor of paint. This allows her a level of control – an “I can change that whenever I want” freedom enjoyed by painters. Her sculptures don’t have to claim the space like a stand-alone phallic object- they dance along the walls instead. It is not surprising that Shatz speaks of reimagining symbols of the past about forces of history and nature. The force of this nature resonates with self-realization.
Margaret R. Thompson’s paintings of glowing, soft interiors and temple-like botanical landscapes pulse with gritty iridescence. “These works are about sanctuary—hideaways and refuge, moments of concealment, protection… sanctuary as a place, a way of life, a disguise, a state of being”, Margaret writes. In many of her paintings, figures in solitude relax amidst roses, grand landscapes, glowing interiors, coffee, flowers, and journals. In others, plant forms and moths and figures hover in the frame, pulsating with symbolic intensity, forming patterns and symmetry. Inspired by elements of the symbolist movement and magical realism, Thompson channels dreams and the associative powers of the imagination into her practice, painting subjects that live between our physical realm and spaces beyond the categories of known experience: they are unrestrained, undefined, and free. She weaves synesthetic responses to poetry, explorations of ritual, and a reverence for the natural world into her paintings, filtering reality through her own mythology. Working with oil paint, wax, and raw pigments on various surfaces and more recently incorporating minerals, plants and spices allows her to embody the soul of a memory. The heady physicality, scents and textures of materials such as ash, turmeric, chili, sand, and mica serve to document moments that she never wants to forget.
The Pink Room, Dawn is a self-portrait in profile kneeling on a chair, coffee and journal on the table, framed by curtains on either side that give way to a landscape view, with a searing red sun that is a nod to Monet’s Impression, Sunrise. Unlike Monet’s painting which depicts figures in a boat, Thompson’s figure is contained indoors - that’s where she wants it to be. She described her version of a quote by Descartes as a leading concept – She who hid well, lived well. Sacred and private spaces and periods of refuge, stillness, and embodiment have become increasingly relevant for her. The glow of the pink that infuses this piece, and the stylized, linear hand of the work, breathe some Vuillard and Matisse into the room as well. This is one of her most recent pieces, in which she has incorporated not just paint but pigments from the earth, wax, chili, ash, and mica. “The smell of the chili overwhelmed the room as I was working”, Margaret exclaimed excitedly to me on the phone during one of our conversations. She went on to talk about how she has started to ask herself questions like- why don’t we put materials into our paintings that aren’t just paint? What can a painting be made of? What does that do? Infused with scent and ritual, her most recent works contain pieces of her everyday life- like food and other materials someone else prepared, along with the minerals that come from the landscape she lives in. That is what paint is- it is made essentially of ground up stones and plants. Speaking of plants- her work is full of them. Many works in this show feature plants in the center of the picture plane such as Midnight, Dusk, and Mothflower. The wavy edges of the paintings form portals, reminiscent of William Blake illustrations and vintage bookplate prints. Glowing ombré fields of color, orb-like spheres of paint, stylized droplets, and anthropomorphized foliage seem to float, as do many of her forms, pressing into the edges of the picture plane. “There is a strange beauty I aim to capture in the life of each piece, an awareness of the ‘unseen world’ going on at all times all around us,” Thompson explains. “My practice is aspirational, rejecting basic conventional modes of living for a more utopian existence where dreams, nature, curiosity, and spirit coexist as our highest values.” Ritualistic movement, interiority, and shifting, ephemeral natural light into places of being inhabited within the subjects. Somatic experiences of air, water, and scent are conveyed through a sacred sense of a deep presence of making. Indeed, she considers the paintings to be “celebratory objects or talismans imbued with qualities to protect our identities and imaginations”.
Experiencing both artists works together feels like a clear channel to childhood art-making, to witness the anatomy of the presence of hands pushing through the clay or rubbing wax-infused pigment into a soft surface, and to swim, connect, relax, and imbibe. We are invited to join a sacred dance. I am in awe.
Essay by Mira Gerard