Seriously beautiful art
by Alec Clayton
published in The Weekly Volcano, June 2003
Untitled painted construction by Ron Hinson Just when you thought it was safe to go back the art gallery — that is, just when you thought it was safe to assume that anything you’re likely to see in a gallery is going to look pretty much like everything else — then along comes Ron Hinson with a group of painted constructions at Childhood’s End Gallery in Olympia to prove originality in art is not dead after all. Hinson’s work looks like nothing else you’re likely to see anywhere. He’s the real deal.
There are some other things showing in the gallery: some quilts, some glass art, some turned wood. But alongside Hinson’s paintings, they are just so much clash and clutter. They shouldn’t be in the same room.
Did I mention that he’s the real deal?
Hinson’s painted constructions are massive, abstract forms that protrude from the wall like hybridized Constructivist and Art Nouveau wall planters. The forms are a combination of flat squares and triangles that jut outward at various angles, and biomorphic forms that dance in front of these flatter forms, sometimes in rhythmical patterns and sometimes in seemingly random arrangements that almost — but not quite — defy any sense of harmony or balance. His subject matter is usually derived from sources such as Greek and Roman mythology, classical literature and classical art. But he abstracts his subjects beyond recognition. "These painted constructions do not tell narrative stories," Hinson writes in a statement. "Some of the shapes are ‘informed’ by images in our visual world, but they do not ‘represent’ any image. The viewer is encouraged to discern the underlying structure of the visual relationships because in them are encoded the experiences of living."
He does not title his paintings, because he does not want to encourage the viewer to look for narrative content. For Hinson, the aesthetic relationships between visual elements is more important than subject matter. His true subject is not Leda and the swan or the labors of Hercules or the death of Marat. His true subject is color, line, shape, mass, value, pattern and space; and the ways in which all of these visual elements interact. His challenge to himself is to see how far he can push visual boundaries. He stretches the limits of balance and harmony, and he stretches the limits between painting and sculpture. Some of his works have fully-rounded sections that extend a good foot or two from the wall; yet they are paintings, not sculptures. The spatial, textural and color relationships all are dealt with from a painter’s point of view, and they are designed to be seen from one side only.
Only one painting in the show seemed a little weak to me. It is solid yellow in color. Symmetrically balanced, all of the shapes radiate like encompassing arms from a vertical floral shape in the center. The only variations from the milky yellow color are accents along the edges of shapes, and one circular shape in a yellowish-orange that seems detached from the whole — barely touching on one edge. This one out-of-balance piece teetering on the edge saves it.
Everything else is wonderful. My favorites are the two pieces at the back of the gallery. One consists of four floral shapes in modulated tones of yellow blue, orange and pink that dance in a rhythmical in-and-out pattern over a series of gray triangular shapes. In the very center is a vertical rod painted in stripes of gray. Next to it is a heavy, dense piece that reminds me of sea life, with a flying turtle, fish and two shapes that look like teddy bears. And absurdly extended from the bottom is a tree-limb ladder with pennants on the bottom. It all sounds comically absurd to describe, and there is a comic element, but it is seriously beautiful art.
From Eden to Steppenwolf
by Alec Clayton
published in The Weekly Volcano, December 2003
It would be rather redundant of me to review Ron Hinson’s show at The Gallery at Tacoma Community College. After all, I recently reviewed his show in Olympia and even more recently mentioned him in connection with a group show at TCC. Enough should be enough.
But I’m going to review it anyway. Because it’s the biggest show Hinson has ever done. Because it’s the best art exhibit in the area. And because I have an editor who lets me get away with murder (and write in sentence fragments).
Hinson’s paintings are large, ambitious and complex. They are abstract but with references to forms in nature. They extend out from the wall in ways that make them more like sculpture than painting, yet Hinson insists on calling them paintings because aesthetically they are more about paint than shapes in space. Most of them are untitled, but Hinson sometimes makes up titles for his own identification purposes, and these titles often provide clues to the historical and mythological subject matter of his paintings. For instance, in “Eden Theme I,” the figures of Adam and Eve are obvious only because of the clue given by the title.
The reason Hinson usually leaves his paintings untitled is that he wants them to be appreciated for their abstract qualities — for their complexities of color and harmony and pattern and texture — and not for how cleverly they depict Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden. He is afraid that if he used literary titles viewers would become so caught up with puzzling out their meaning that they would fail to appreciate the abstract qualities that Hinson considers more important.
Hinson’s painted constructions are elaborately built in sections, mostly out of wood and often built up with massive globs of plaster or acrylic gels and augmented with found materials such as tree branches or scrapings off his palate that are like multi-colored wasp nests. His forms tend to balance contrasting shapes such as free-flowing serpentine shapes on the one hand, and harshly angled squares, rectangles and zigzags on the other. These constructions then become surfaces upon which he paints with highly energetic brushstrokes that are, in turn, contrasted with very precisely painted patterns, so that everything becomes a give-and-take between harmony and contrast.
Aesthetically, Hinson pushes his paintings to the brink of chaos, so that they are always almost out of balance. Yet they never quite topple over the edge. (Funny, isn’t it? The term “edgy” has become such a hip expression for youthful attitudes, and here we have one of the truly edgy artists in the South Sound, and he’s a senior citizen who retired after 39 years teaching art in order to paint full time.)
In addition to his painted constructions, Hinson is showing five earlier pieces called Magic Theaters. In a printed statement, Hinson denies that they refer to the stage, but rather refer to words taken from Herman Hesse’s novel “Steppenwolf” to denote a “rather surreal environment.” That may be true, but I can’t help but think of them as stage sets. The Magic Theaters are rectangular boxes that hang like paintings on the wall. They are approximately four feet long and six inches deep. Inside the boxes are layered curtains or scrims made of wood or canvas, which are backgrounds for such oddities as a swing set with a red velvet cushion, flying pink pea pods and pop-up shooting gallery targets — surreal? Yes, but stage sets nevertheless.
© 2003 by Alec Clayton