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2015: A great year for art in Memphis

I Thought I Might Find You Here” by Brian Pera at Rhodes Clough-Hanson Gallery

Early in the year, filmmaker and author Brian Pera showed a series of sculptures made in the wake of a friend’s suicide. Pera used colorful yarn, wood, and other oddments to create a show that managed both warmth and solemnity. Pera included video, a slideshow, and a small booklet of photographs to further explore loss. What resulted was moving and brave work. — Eileen Townsend

“Lance Turner: Crosstown Studio Residency Exhibition” at Crosstown Arts

To explore the concept of endlessness, Lance Turner created a series of symmetrical, dizzying abstractions in a back room at Crosstown Arts. He repeated his strange murals until they covered the walls of the space and then built a series of models that echoed those murals, ad infinitum. Turner also showed excellent work this year at GLITCH, a Midtown house gallery and venue. He is perhaps best known for his downtown mural of late punk rocker Jay Reatard, whose image he painted in grey pixels on the side of a South Main business. — ET

Lester Merriweather’s “WHITE(S) ONLY”

“WHITE(S) ONLY” by Lester Merriweather at University of Memphis’ Fogelman Galleries

Merriweather’s exhibition, which consisted of all white objects, was hosted in a gallery with glass doors, white walls, white columns, and overhead spot lighting. The main focus was on a series of oversized paint swatches in degrees of white, with their corresponding names printed on them. Real product names like “Colonial White” and “Fresh Cotton,” provided a pointed commentary on the country’s past. Accompanying the swatches were objects covered in white, such as an old church with a steeple, an old washboard, a miniature ship with masts, and an American flag. The starkness of the room and the blankness of the items in it allowed viewers to focus on the textures and iterations of overwhelming whiteness, in many senses of the word, and what it feels like to exist in that space. — Elle Perry

“Mi Sur/My South,” group exhibition at Crosstown Arts

This exhibition represented Caritas Village-based Centro Cultural’s latest annual survey of Latino/a artists in Memphis. The exhibition featured more established, as well as emerging artists. Many of the pieces dealt with identity and the dualism that can come with being Latino/a in the United States, and, more specifically, Memphis. The show included work by artists who immigrated to the United States as well as those who grew up here. A broad range of both sculptural and two-dimensional work was included. — EP

“A Kind of Confession,” group exhibition at the Metal Museum

In another exhibition focusing on group and individual identity, the Metal Museum’s “A Kind of Confession” featured metalwork from 11 black artists at a range of career points from around the U.S. It explored culture and race in America through the lens of history, socioeconomic status, gender, and current events. Some pieces offered a nostalgic, often humorous slice of black life, while others offered social critiques of both contemporary black and American culture. — EP

“Meet Me Where I’m At” by Johnathan Robert Payne at Crosstown Arts

Payne paired his meticulous, methodical drawings with an hour-long performance, which was equally methodical: He spent an hour doing a Tae-Bo workout video and then, in a vulnerable gesture, bathed in front of a small audience. Payne’s show approached themes of loneliness and desire. It made us uncomfortable and made us think. — ET

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Art Exhibit M

Best Art Instagrams of the Week: Flyer Round-up

Wondering which Memphis-based (or Memphis-originated) artists to follow on Instagram? Allow us to help.

Filmmaker and sculptor Brian Pera (@brian__pera) is currently in production on a film project dubbed “Sorry Not Sorry”, featuring fellow artists Terri Phillips and Joel Parsons. 

Best Art Instagrams of the Week: Flyer Round-up

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Johnathan Robert Payne (@johnrobertpayne) and D’Angelo Lovell Williams (@limitedomnishit) collaborated on a series of photographs and drawings that were on view at First Congregational Church earlier this week. 

Thank you to everyone who came out tonight! It meant a lot to @limitedomnishit and I. #roomtolet

A photo posted by Johnathan Payne (@johnrobertpayne) on

Best Art Instagrams of the Week: Flyer Round-up (2)

Kong Wee Pang (@kongweepang) and Jay Crum (@crumjay) installed “Walking Eyes”, a collaborative series of works on paper and fabric, at Crosstown Arts. 

Best Art Instagrams of the Week: Flyer Round-up (3)

Memphis-bred cartoonist and illustrator Derrick Dent (@dentslashink) lives in New York now, but that hasn’t changed his quick draw style. 

Avoiding any copyright issues, I'll just call this People Folks of New York City Place.

A photo posted by Derrick Dent (@dentslashink) on

Best Art Instagrams of the Week: Flyer Round-up (4)

Another Memphis trained artist-to-watch: Rhodes grad Esther Ruiz, whose glow-y neon sculptures are making waves in NYC. 

i've been in here 13 hours, last one

A photo posted by @esther___ruiz on

Best Art Instagrams of the Week: Flyer Round-up (5)

Hamlett Dobbins (@hamlettdobbins) is making colorful and wonderful summer drawings. 

Summer drawing 2015.

A photo posted by Hamlett Dobbins (@hamlettdobbins) on

Best Art Instagrams of the Week: Flyer Round-up (6)

Think your Instagram should be featured on our weekly art round-up? Let me know: eileen@contemporary-media.com. 

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Art Exhibit M

Johnathan Robert Payne’s “Meet Me Where I’m At”

I was really hyped to see Johnathan Robert Payne’s performance, ”Meet Me Where I’m At,” Friday night at Crosstown Arts. I’m glad I did. 

I’ve loved Payne’s art since I first ran across it at Beige, where the artist had a solo show last fall. That show was made up of obsessive, abstract ballpoint pen drawings — all modular lines, meditatively blended. I’m a sucker for his pensive and lonely works on paper, which seem more about the repetitive process than the final product. They recall Alighiero Boetti’s intricate ballpoint pen pieces, as well as the strangely sloping linear drawings of folk artist Marin Ramirez. They feel to me like a removed headspace, rhythmically applied.

Which is partially why I was so curious about this show. How would Payne’s pensive, quiet style of making translate into performance?

We were given 20 minutes between the show’s opening and the start of the performance to roam the gallery. Near the door, there were several curtains made of cut paper that Payne threaded together, fishnet style. A black, industrial tub full of water sat in the middle of the room. Several small drawings hung on the walls and, in one corner, a braided yarn rope dangled from the ceiling. Towards the back of the space, lit tea lights demarcated an 8ft x 5ft (est) rectangle on the ground. A projector lit up the far wall of the gallery, paused on a still frame from the opening sequence of Billy Blank’s Tae Bo Workout. The objects could have been the set-up for a joke: “A duck walks into a bar…”

Payne entered the space, kneeled facing the audience, and immediately shaved his beard and head. As he shaved his head, I became aware of what he was wearing: a grey hoodie, which suddenly took on a monastic glow. I also became aware of text on the paused screen behind him, a disclaimer that reminded us that Tae Bo is not a substitute for “counseling from your healthcare professional.” Payne then put on a pair of glasses and moved into the middle of the tealight-defined stage. The video started. For the next 50 minutes, he faced the back wall of Crosstown arts and did Tae Bo.

Payne was dwarfed by the screen, by Billy Blank’s huge projected visage. The scale of the projection reminded me of what it was like to watch Tae Bo commercials as a kid during endless, bored summers. Billy Blank instructs a crowd of fitness models on a red mat, backed up by graphic art of Billy Blank himself and a block lettered sign that reads “BE STRONG.”

Tae Bo, it turns out, is really difficult. Payne became visibly more exhausted as the video picked up speed. After 45 minutes had passed, the audience members who’d hung around that long started to cheer Payne on: “You got this!” or “Almost there!” Some of the Tae Bo moves were funny. Others were exposing. It was hypnotic. The bathtub loomed.

When the video finally ended, Payne sat down and turned towards the audience. He looked beat. He was a human again. I felt a wave of embarrassment, or guilt, or something. Payne then stripped down to his boxers and got in the bathtub. He submerged himself, then washed his whole body, carefully, with a bar of ivory soap. He didn’t acknowledge us.

He got out of the bathtub, still wet, and began to pick up small fortune cookie fortunes that, I realized, had been floating in the water. For the first time, Payne looked at us, and read: “Now is the time to investigate new possibilities with friends.” He then picked up another object — a pink funnel attached to a pink tube, beer bong style — and filled it with the fortune and soapy bathwater. For a moment, I thought he was going to offer it to us to drink.

Instead, he turned the action on himself. He attempted to swallow the water, choked and spit up. He repeated this action with three more fortunes (“a distant friendship could begin to look more promising,” “you will take a pleasant journey to a place far away,” “you will soon have the opportunity to improve your finances”), circling the tub each time. Then he exited the room. Someone said: “Are we going to clap? That was pretty good, wasn’t it?” and everyone clapped.

Payne’s work is punishing, but not exactly cruel. Tae Bo is a lonely mortification to be followed by ablutions in a rubbermaid tub, to be followed by a spiel of Chinese fortunes (the food of lonely American cliche.) These are familiar, unthinking moments. Who hasn’t worked out alone, showered, and eaten take out?

The weirdness of performance art vs. theater is that, rather than removing you from your body with a fear of lighting and narrative, performance art more often than not makes you super conscious of it. Which might be Payne’s point: rinse, repeat, repeat, rinse, pay attention. Stay aware. We’re all lonely. Meet us where we’re at.