A decade in, RedLine celebrates with a sentimental show
It’s not a stretch to see RedLine art center’s current exhibition “10X” as a referendum on the city’s art scene as a whole. As RedLine goes, so does Denver.
And that’s by design. The nonprofit center has spent a decade pushing itself into the center of the action, emerging as the most important developer of new painters, sculptors and other object-makers. Its mission, broadly defined, is to identify promising young artists and give them the tools they need to succeed: coaching and career advice; free studio space in RedLine’s sleek RiNo headquarters; and a creative and social network to tap into.
Those things can be a huge leg up for struggling artists, and the effort has paid off handsomely: RedLine alumni dominate Denver art. They get gallery and museum shows, win lucrative commissions from local developers and governments. They’re not getting rich, but they’re connected.
“10X,” curated by Cortney Lane Stell, is meant as a celebra- tion of it all. More than a cohesive exhibit with something to say, it’s an art party where everyone who ever passed through RedLine is invited to show. That includes the dozen or so residents now given precious studio space each year, plus a number of more experienced local artists who have been sprinkled in to
provide mentorship.
But there’s something interesting in the exercise for the general public as well — a chance to take stock of Denver’s overall level of proficiency, to identify talents who stand out and to note artists whose skills match the individual tastes of viewers. Speaking more directly: “10X” offers you an opportunity to find a local artist you like, someone you might follow or even collect. Or — because this is how art goes — a few names to ignore.
This particular living catalogue does have its stars and, for better or worse, they tend to be the mentors — not artists who might be considered RedLine discoveries, but those whose careers were in bloom before they were brought in as resident advisers.
That starts with a mural on the outside of the building painted directly on the wall by Clark Richert, the veteran Colorado abstractionist whose multicolored, geometric (and likely science-based) work serves as an oversized welcome to the exhibit.
There’s more of that pro touch inside, and often in smaller gestures. Mark Sink’s vintage, hand-sized, black-and-white photo portraits, altered so the faces are blotted out, are mesmerizing explorations of how photos can feel so personal and so remote at the same time.
John McEnroe, the sculptor known for his giant, public art — he made the blown-up toy model sets you can see driving by the Colorado Convention Center — contributes “Earthbound,” a foot-tall resin figure that miniaturizes a roly-poly Michelin Man-like object and turns him Pepto-Bismol pink. Meanwhile, Bruce Price, a long-time teacher and counselor to Denver artists, has four unframed wall pieces made from “acrylic and porn on paper” in which he paints over images of naked, sexualized figures. They’re either smut transformed into art or art made real by smut; it doesn’t really matter.
Because “10X” is so sprawling with 92 works by 70-plus artists, it can be hard to sort out. Just making all that art fit into RedLine’s galleries (and entrance, courtyard, offices, library and bathroom hallway) was a major job.
There are so many objects that would benefit from that tiny bit of signage that high-quality gallery and museum shows usually offer. A little mystery makes any exhibit an adventure, but dozens of objects begging your brain to connect the dots on its own can be taxing, and impossible.
So, instead of understanding things, you are left mostly intrigued, though sometimes wonderfully so by pieces like Sammy Seung-Min Lee’s “Arrived,” a five-piece set of luggage covered in paper and black paint, or Suchitra Mattai’s textile “El Dorado After All,” that attaches thread, zippers and faux fur to a seaweed rug.
If we just knew a little more about the process behind Ashley Frazier’s “Flight 720,” an intriguing grid of looseleaf pages torn from their binding and framed individually, we could go beyond our wild guesses.
That makes the artists who work most directly — boldly, colorfully, representationally — the standouts in ”10X.” Luckily for anyone who shows up looking for artists to follow or collect, the objects that are easiest to read also happen to be deeply rewarding and collectable.
That includes Jeff Page’s “FACEPALMS,” a striking, stop-motion video that presents, at a rapid-fire pace, the words gay men say about themselves (and, perhaps, the things people say about them); Ian Fisher’s stormy cloud painting “Atmosphere No. 95”; Lauyoung ra Merage’s plush, interactive oasis “Nauzy, Nauzy”; and Amber Cobb’s “Tactics for Pleasure,” which has bedsheets and stuffed animals frozen in silicone goo.
A few more worth a mention (at the risk of turning this review into a list): Clay Hawkley’s text-based, Duchamp-referencing “One of My Female Friends”; Donald Fodness’ totem pole stacks of found ceramic mugs; Jonathan Saiz’s mirrored blue art-making machine called “Blue Chipped”; and Esther Hernandez’s raw “Roomboob,” which, as its name implies, combines a roving Roomba vacuum and a single female breast cast in plastic.
“10X” does serve as a history of RedLine as it approaches its landmark anniversary and it does reveal where the institution has been strong — and where it might be stronger.
Seen through a wide lens, the work on display doesn’t feel especially progressive or edgy. It is surprisingly, even disappointingly, low-tech, which is startling considering the digital revolution that’s redefining art across the country and the relative youth of RedLine artists.
But the sheer number of artists involved testifies to RedLine’s great gift to Denver. The place has touched many lives and helped scores of artists find their way. Many of the talented participants in “10X” wouldn’t get the recognition or opportunities they deserve if RedLine hadn’t brought them into its fold. It has created a community; these artists, dozens of them, know each and serve as resources for one another.
RedLine also serves its city well. Artists deserve our support and we must do that individually and collectively, by creating an institutional framework they can tap into for support. RedLine does that job for all of us.