Visits at Erector Square during CWOS 2013 first weekend

Artspace
City-Wide Open Studios
50 Orange St, New Haven, (203) 772-2709
City-Wide Open Studios 2013
Erector Square Weekend: Sat. and Sun., Oct. 12–13, Noon—5 p.m.

For the first time in a long time I was able to visit Erector Square both days of the weekend. And one of the truisms of City-Wide Open Studios, at least for me, is that these annual visits confirm a picture of artists as individuals who are always exploring, experimenting, searching for new ways to express themselves.

My first stop on Saturday is Building 4, more of an alternative gallery space than an actual open studio. Eight artists are showing work here and I take the opportunity to chat with several of them.

Will Lustenader is showing his most recent paintings. They mark a departure from the realist style with which I have been familiar. Lustenader says that they are the fruit of a two-year burst during which "I kept to myself and reinvented my approach to spatial issues."

When I had last checked in on Lustenader's work, he was painting still life’s of folded paper, exploring reflection, light and shadow along with the dynamics of shape. With the new work, Lustenader is taking the shapes and planes and eschewing reflective surfaces in favor of an approach more akin to color field painting.

They have a jaunty modernist groove—curves, angles, vessel-like figures. Lustenader says that someone on Facebook referred to the paintings as "visual Brubeck," a nod to the late jazz pianist Dave Brubeck. "God, I love that," Lustenader exclaims. "I'll keep that in mind when I'm painting—'visual Brubeck.'"

Will Lustenader: "Interactivity and Gifting," left and "Customary Regard," right

Lustenader sees this body of work as actually two different sets of pictures, which he approaches in very different ways. In some, the colors, even when layered, feel more solid and defined. Others more clearly evince process, the layering of light and dark pigments. There is also a combination of clearly hand-defined irregular edges versus other juxtapositions that are tight and masked-off from each other.

"I like the language, the flip-flop. It keeps me fresh, it keeps it fresh," says Lustenader.

I ask Lustenader how his work evolved to this current incarnation.

"I started to see shapes as shapes and not as atmosphere. As my tabletop became less reflective, things flattened out more," he explains.

But it also involves a revisiting of an earlier approach to painting, albeit in a new way. Lustenader says he felt he had "unfinished business from 1992 when I left off with very large color field paintings. But where his previous work in this mode was very conscious, "This I'm trying to do unconsciously."

"Sometimes I discover something in a painting by accident and then I use it purposefully" in subsequent works, Lustenader says.

•••

A glance at Karen Dow's new paintings might give the impression that nothing has changed. But for Dow, a fundamental shift has occurred over the past year or so in how she works. Where Dow used to paint in a kind of representational abstraction—interpreting photographs into their starkest pictorial elements as rectangular shapes—she has now abandoned referencing representational imagery.

All the paintings are made flat on the table. Dow turns the table as she works; the orientation of the image is not decided until the very end.

"It feels like now my work is focused more on composition and color and me holding off on that understanding of what I'm making," says Dow. "When I'm working from a photograph, I know how to solve that puzzle earlier." Her new approach makes the process more interesting, more mysterious. "It's less about interpretation and more about inspiration."

"I don't choose the palette ahead of time. I'm experimenting with color relationships. I'm more inspired by Josef Albers' color studies. There are lots of layers in these paintings and I'm adding and editing all the time," says Dow.

Dow teaches printmaking at the Educational Center for the Arts (ECA) and says the process of printmaking freed her up to experiment with the new approach. "In the process of teaching students monotype, I realized there was something there for myself. It literally happened in a class demonstration," Dow recalls. "I've always been interested in crazy quits—that process—but I've never seen a way in, how that influence would play in my own work. Pulling paintings off the wall and making them on the table made it possible to mimic that process in painting."

Karen Dow: Untitled monotype print

Along with the paintings she is exhibiting, Dow is showing a selection of monotypes. Like her paintings, they are based on rectangular shapes. The same thought process is evident but the transparency of the monotype inks allows the layering process to be foregrounded. (In her paintings, that layering is visible along the edges of her rectangles where traces of underlying colors remain as edge and boundary and history.) They remind me of aerial views of cities but with a twist—as though the viewer can see not only the current urban layout but also archaeological remains beneath.

•••

Dow's husband Chris Mir is showing a series of paintings of poppies on the adjacent wall. Mir tells me that a Carl Jung quote from Dreams, Memories and Reflections—"Birds, crystals and flowrs are God's thoughts"—lingered in his mind when working on the series.

"I liked that it was a flower that produced opiates. I have an interest in hallucinatory states," Mir tells me. The small, square paintings are "meditations on the beauty of forms." The luminous flowers open out of rich black backgrounds. "I think they're cosmic, as a child of hippies."

"I love the geometries of the internal structures," Mir says. He worked from photographs, painting with acrylics on panels. "They're kind of ugly and beautiful at the same time."

Christopher Mir: "Poppy 13"

When I ask if he has a favorite of the poppies, he pretty quickly chooses "Poppy 13" because its pistil and stamens are "weird browns and ochre’s, not traditionally beautiful. The immediate thing is they're flowers and beautiful but also sinister and alien."

•••

Rebecca Lowry has been painting on wood since she was a child. Her father was a builder and there was always plywood lying around. "It was unintimidating and cheap," she tells me, "and I got attached to the feeling of painting on a hard surface."

But it has just been in the past year and a half that Lowry has started not only painting on wood but carving the surface as well. She carves into the surface and adds layers on top and layers behind, saying it's a "back and forth process."

Rebecca Lowry: "Hide Here With Me"

"I think I wanted to make a mark. I pounded something into the surface of the wood and it occurred to me I could alter the surface," Lowry says. She started out with finer tools and found her way to power tools like angle grinders and disc sanders. "I like making art with something aggressive," she says, laughing.

"I don't start out with the intention of a shape or feeling. I let the process dictate the starting point. I get attached to something in the composition and then starting working around that," Lowry says. "Something starts to reveal itself and then I push that."

Rebecca Lowry: "Hide Here With Me" detail

Of course, the drawback to carving in wood is that it locks her down. As a way to get some relief from that, Lowry also works on paper, taking rubbings off the surface of some of her carved pieces and then embellishing those images. Paper frees her up. "Paper is calmer, more serene," Lowry says.

•••

Also showing fine work in that space were Joseph Fucigna, Danny Huff, Cham Hendon, Peter Ramon and Linda Lindroth. I've written before about Lindroth's large photographs of packaging material. The images in that series that she had previously shown were often devoid of references as to what exactly they were, reading as geometric modernist abstractions. Lindroth is now allowing recognizable representational imagery into the frame—packaging art, text.

"They are going in a variety of directions," she tells me. "I'm trying not to limit myself."

•••

In Building 6, I visit with Nancy Eisenfeld, Barbara Harder, Liz Pagano and Fethi Meghelli. Meghelli was showing a number of works in progress, including ornate handmade dolls inspired by a visit to his native Algeria for a relative's wedding. The dolls are crafted out of aluminum foil, clay, recycled materials like bottles and cans, and cloth remnants he finds.

"I'd never seen a wedding like this. It was so elaborate," Meghelli says. "I found out UNESCO has decided [this community] is a World Heritage site to be preserved. The dresses are a craft being passed from one generation to another. They really inspired me. I took tons of pictures."

Dolls by Fethi Meghelli

The dolls are not based on the pictures, per se. Rather, they served as a prod to Meghelli, the images being transformed by his artistic imagination into the colorful garb of his dolls.

•••

Also in Building 6, I stop in and visit with Jeff Mueller and Kerri Sancomb of Dexterity Press, a letterpress printing shop. Mueller, in between giving demonstrations to visitors of how his presses work, tells me that he originally got involved with letterpress printing as a way to come up with creative packaging for records made by post-punk bands he played in. Mueller has recorded with the groups Rodan, Shipping News and June of 44. He started working in a shop in Chicago in 1995 and formally opened Dexterity Press with his wife Kerri Sancomb in 2001. In 2010, Mueller and Sancomb moved to Connecticut.

Jeff Mueller of Dexterity Press

Besides doing commission work, Mueller and Sancomb also design and print their own fine art posters and artist books. Their designs are based on found imagery, Mueller's own drawings and the use of hand-set type. There is a wonderful poetic feeling to their prints.

•••

On a tip, at the end of the day I stop by Building 3 to check out the drawings of Daniel Eugene. His incredibly detailed works evoke Op Art, antique engravings, natural forms, Art Deco and Art Nouveau. Eugene's relentless line work piles up detail upon detail, creating shimmering forms.

Eugene says he wants to "create a biological response so you feel it somewhere in your body rather than just witness it through your eyes."

Artwork by Daniel Eugene

Eugene says he is intrigued by "indigenous goddess images and pre-patriarchal society"—one drawing is called "Artemis's Bow"—but is most influenced by literature and, in particular, stream-of-consciousness writers such as Henry Miller, Anaïs Nin, D.H. Lawrence and Lawrence Durrell. It isn't surprising. His drawings have a meditative, stream-of-consciousness feel to them.

"Their concerns are not only about what they're creating but art as a power, a possibility—something that shapes progress," says Eugene. "To call yourself an artist is to take a huge responsibility. You really need to think about what in your present experience is absent from the social equation, identify it and allow your artwork to be a catalyst for that type of conversation."

•••

On Sunday, I wander through the Building 5 second floor space just browsing the work of the various artists there. Before I do, I spend some time on the first floor, acquainting myself with Gordon Skinner's mixed media paintings. The beauty of Skinner's artwork is the way it harnesses putatively ugly emotions and harsh truths—about racism, poverty, violence—to fashion a rough beauty.

Skinner, a self-taught 36-year-old African-American artist, has only been painting for four years. But in that time he has developed a strong command of his brushwork. Three current paintings on display—"Nomad: Circulatory Study 1," "A Study of Ciäte's Mother: Circulatory Study 3" and "Falling Nude: Circulatory Study 2"—are electric, filled with energy and excitement. Skinner layers paint with a sure eye. His most recent figurative work reminds me of the painterly approach of Francis Bacon.

Gordon Skinner: "Nomad: Circulatory Study 1"

"I'm trying to focus on my own artistic language," Skinner tells me. There are recurring motifs in his paintings: brick imagery relates to the urban environment, the "Greek key" represents the infinite. A lot of his figures are portrayed with their mouths wide open, Skinner saying it symbolizes his "need to be heard." He incorporates collage, bold colors. Skinner says he enjoys building up the canvas, that texture is an important part of his work.

Gordon Skinner: "Self Portrait as Garbage Pail Kid III" detail

"I love expressionist work, anyone who expresses themselves and has that freedom to be creative. I'm drawn to that," says Skinner. Among the artists whose work has influenced him are Joan Mitchell, Picasso, Francis Bacon and Joan Miró. The influences "act as a gauge. This is what this person did and did well. What if I turn over here? It gives me a range. I use that as schooling.

"The paintings are never finished, they're only abandoned," says Skinner. "It's pretty instinctual."

•••

My final stop is the studio of Geoffrey Detrani in Building 2. Detrani creates layered mixed media works that superimposes naturalistic and architectural forms. "It's the duality I'm always trying to get at in my work," Detrani says, "between the indication of a naturalistic space and something very artificial and manufactured." He relies heavily on acrylic medium, both as a glue with which to adhere his translucent layers of drawings and as a neutral tint.

Along with his larger paintings, Detrani is showing drawings built up over faint graphite layers. These drawings are "a record of making work," Detrani says. They begin as sheets of paper on top of which he is starting other pieces. Those drawings leave traces that have a ghostly quality. Detrani then superimposes additional imagery over those traces.

Geoffrey Detrani: "Homespun Fiction"

A recently finished work, "Homespun Fiction," incorporates pencil, acrylic, a photograph and enamel on paper mounted to a panel. It is somewhat unusual in Detrani's oeuvre for including a large bold area of color (yellow) as part of the work. His paintings tend to be characterized by a very muted color palette with some limited inclusion of strong red. Detrani says the work is an experiment in "trying to look for the thing itself, when separated out from all the special effects. When taken out of that atmospheric space, see how it works on its own with a color field behind it."

Landscape-oriented show opens Frday at Giampietro Gallery

Giampietro Gallery—Works of Art
315 Peck St., New Haven, (203) 777-7760
LOOKOUTOUTLOOK
Nov. 16—Dec. 21, 2012.
Reception: Fri., Nov. 16, 5—8 p.m.

Press release from Giampietro Gallery

Giampietro Gallery is pleased to present LOOKOUTOUTLOOK, a landscape-based exhibition curated by Christopher Joy. The show will feature the works of Gregory Amenoff, Jake Berthot, Clint Jukkala, Thomas Nozkowski, Peter Ramon, Lucy Mink, Becky Yazdan, Dushko Petrovich, Willard Lustenader, Melissa Brown and Sharon Horvath. The exhibition opens on Fri., Nov. 16, with a reception from 5 until 8 p.m. and continues through Dec. 21, 2012.

Jake Berthot: "Janlori Loop"

Gone hysterical because of the weight and stillness of an impassable mountain of mist? Someone told me that there is no escape from history and memory. When the sun shines, it just makes claustrophobia clearer. Perhaps standing on your head would help. Or better yet, superimpose your head on the landscape, so your lower jaw sits at your feet. As high-functioning gray matter approaches infinity, it reaches toward the line. Escape to Bill Gates' perfect field. Is there awkwardness in nature, or is it merely cultural phenomenom?

Tom Nozkowski, Dushko Petrovich and Gregory Amenoff draw on the landscape as content for their paintings. Works by Jake Berthot, Melissa Brown and Clint Jukkala embed emotional presence within landscape conventions. Sharon Horvath's dreamy cosmic landscapes draw from peripheral vision. Will Lustenader loses himself in atmospheric deconstructive views. Works by Peter Ramon, Lucy Mink and Becky Yazdan explore and personalize the natural landscape.

Willard Lustenader's pure hybrids

Fred Giampietro Folk Art, Antiques and Contemporary Art
315 Peck St., New Haven, (203) 777-7760
Willard Lustenader: Areas of Refuge
Through July 1, 2011.

The first word that comes to mind as I contemplate Willard Lustenader's paintings in the Areas of Refuge show is "pure." There is an understanding of essence—whether it's line, shape, color or light—that is refreshing. The exhibit showcases a series of work based on Lustenader's study of still life geometric forms. Primarily a show of paintings, the exhibit also includes several drawings and a few sculptural works derived from the same themes.

Lustenader is a realist painter and this set of works began with paintings of paper cut-out still lifes. While continuing with the cut-outs, which call to mind simplified pitched-roof building forms, Lustenader has more recently begun painting bent wire sculptures. The bent wires resemble the definitional contour lines of the paper cut-outs. But where the cut-out paintings offer the illusion of naturalistic depth, the wire paintings suggested a flattened visual field.

Several things stand out about Lustenader's paintings. They are notable for the strength of his technique. His colors are luminous. I would say there is an intuitive understanding of the nature of light and shadow but more likely that is a hard-won skill. While these works all deal with similar subject matter, Lustenader's keen compositional sense imbues each with a strong individual identity.

Lustenader, when asked, is clear. He is painting what he sees. Yet—because he is painting geometric forms rather than, say, a bowl of pears—the paintings seem more like abstract than representational works. This is most pronounced with the "Areas of Refuge" series—specifically the bent wire paintings, as distinct from the show of the same name—where the harder linear forms of the wires are juxtaposed with the soft background traversed by translucent shadows. (Lustenader sets up his wire still lifes on a table in his studio. Working in layers over a period of time, he paints the twisted forms and the soft shadows from the crossbars of his studio windows.)

But this blurring of the line between abstraction and presentation is true of the cut-out paintings also. While Lustenader is painting from life—so to speak—the formalist nature of his shapes alludes to a Modernist tradition most associated with geometric abstraction.

For me, the standout paintings in the show are "Cut-outs, Warm and Cool" (upper image) and "Areas of Refuge #6" (lower image). The former is a tour de force of bold colors and authoritative shapes that situates the viewer within a funhouse mirror architecture. The latter painting has a far more subdued feel. Lustenader's twisted blue line forms are (seemingly) suspended over an evocative wash of diagonal shadows. Where the bright colors and cartoon-like shapes in "Cut-outs, Warm and Cool" model a playful sensibility, the muted palette and envelopment by shadows of "Areas of Refuge #6" suggests a late afternoon melancholy.

So while the first word that came to mind was "pure," there is in fact a great deal of hybridity to Lusenader's approach. Realism flirts with abstraction and formalism intermingles with feeling.

Lustenader show reception this Saturday

Fred Giampietro Folk Art, Antiques and Contemporary Art
315 Peck St., New Haven, (203) 777-7760
Willard Lustenader: Areas of Refuge
June 4—July 1, 2011.
Artist reception: Sat., June 4, 4—8 p.m.

Press release

Areas of Refuge, a show of paintings by Willard Lustenader (Web), opens at Giampietro in New Haven this Saturday. The show will be on view through July 1, 2011.

Quick notes from CWOS 2009, part 1

Artspace
City-Wide Open Studios
50 Orange St, New Haven, (203) 772-2709
City-Wide Open Studios
Oct. 2—4, 2009

With City-Wide Open Studios taking place within the compressed time frame of one weekend, I decide to start my sojourn over at West Cove Studios in West Haven (rather than have my entire Saturday given over to Erector Square). This site is notable both for the printmaking co-op founded by Roy Smith and for its vast expanses of walls well suited to function as gallery space.

My first stop is with sculptor Jonathan Waters. Waters' expansive studio has a view of the water. Through Oct. 18, he is sharing the wall space of his studio/gallery with painter Emilia Dubicki, showing his "Samurai" series of wall sculptures—both large and small works. Several of his large sculptures occupy floor space.

The smaller of these are made of wood veneer and black paper. They have the looping, geometric presence of Russian Constructivism. Waters tells me he calls them the "Samurai" series because of the motion they suggest.

"They're of the moment. Fragile, like our fragile existence," he says, bemused. In a sense, they are gestural sculptures, unlikely to hold together once removed from the wall on which they were created. That fact doesn't concerns Waters. "The mechanics of it is probably the least interesting art of it for me." It is the use of the materials and their receptivity to the forms he wants to create that interest Waters.

"And there is a kind of physicality involved in doing it. It's almost like a drawing that is three-dimensional," says Waters. "And I'm working out ideas. They're sort of sketches. For what, I don't know."

The larger sculptures share the sense of active energy even though they are constructed from harder, heavier, more substantial materials. Using primarily cut wood boards and plywood, selectively painted black, Waters clustered them in kinetic diagonals. They reveal themselves as the viewer walk around them.

Where Waters is working with blacks and natural wood grain tones, Emilia Dubicki's oil paintings pop with throbbing color. Like Waters' sculptures, they convey a sense of motion and their compositions owe a debt to geometric abstraction (although Dubicki considers them all "nature paintings").

"I paint fast. If I can't get the painting out in one shot, I want to walk away," she tells me. Referring to the painting "Miami Vice," Dubicki says, "I did walk away from this painting and came back another day." She notes that she used a palette knife and a plastic knife "to get a lot of blue on there." The use of the plastic knife is suggested by the lines in the paint left by its serrated edge. I ask about a pleasing accumulation of abstract detail in the lower left corner of the work.

"I try not to think about it too much. If it splatters and the splatter works, it stays," Dubicki says.

•••

I didn't get to meet the artist Barkev Gulessarian but a couple of his works riveted my attention. One was a large hollow sculpture, a Buddha with a dog head seated crosslegged in a robe and painted gold. It projected an odd, goofy serenity.

Gulessarian's other work that captivated me was a large "hippie painting," for lack of a better way of describing it. Painted on three large panels of plywood, it depicts a naked couple lounging toward the back of their pad with a large fetal figure in the foreground. A stereo system sits on the floor to the left. The pictorial details are rendered in simple black painted linework over large areas of poster style colors. The unpainted, exposed surfaces of the plywood are perfectly at home in the factory environment. The painting works because of the believabilty of the scene—Gulessarian's effective use of perspective and depth and the naturalistic flow of the figurative shapes. It should be scented with patchouli and outfitted with a psychedelic exploitation soundtrack.

•••

Anita Soos is showing a few large charcoal drawings in her "Water Walking" series, which she started in 2004. She tells me that she has been photographing water for 20 years.

"What I was interested in was capturing what water felt like," says Soos. "I wanted to get the feeling of what water was doing rather than seeing what water was doing. Water holds mysteries. It holds light, shadow, movements and events and layers."

She notes that one of the drawings, "Water Walking: Primary Disturbance," turns the imagery up on end. The drawing seems to pulsate. The idea of "water walking" turns water "into the event of what it does, walking across whatever surface you're looking at. I wanted it to have a more active role, a more poetic role than just saying what it was."

•••

While at West Cove I also have the opportunity to speak with artists Evie Lindemann and Barbara Marks about their works.

Lindemann, who is a professor of art therapy, is showing etchings, collage and a kind of prayer installation in the gallery space of the printmaking co-op. One series of her etchings is of different color prints of a New Age-y plate called "Mythic World," a piece she worked on while studying with the Mexican artist Gilberto Guerrero in the state of Guanajuata, located in the highlands 5 1/2 hours northwest of Mexico City. It features swirling imagery of an open hand (a reference to a serious hand injury Lindemann suffered a couple of years ago), a male figure, a large dove-like bird, fish forms and small figures that look like they are dancing or swimming. (Lindemann tells me they are actually pilgrims in a sacred Mexican church.) Explicating some of the symbolism, Lindemann tells me, "the bird is a transformational agent for me."

Barbara Marks says, "I love the idea of objective abstraction, not non-objective abstraction." What she is referring to in this case is using an iconic shape—a birthday cake—in a large series to evoke a range of emotions. It is a series on "temporality," in general. But specifically, the 75 monotypes of different birthday cakes is an homage to her husband who died at the age of 75 a couple of years ago. Marks notes that the imagery has a real effect on viewers.

"People will see the cakes and automatically start sharing stories about birthdays and the passage of time," she says.

•••

From West Cove I travel over to Erector Square, which easily absorbs the rest of the day. With a wealth of artists to visit and limited time, I don't bother with taking notes. High points include viewing Willard Lustenader's (Web) virtuoso oil paintings based on still lifes of paper cutouts; meeting and talking with Geoffrey Detrani (Web) about his layered drawings that juxtapose natural and architectural imagery; and Mary Lesser's (Web) gouache postcard paintings of scenes from her travels on the road.

Light, paint and dreams at Ely House

John Slade Ely House Center for Contemporary Art
51 Trumbull Street, New Haven, (203) 624-8055
Inviting Abstraction
Through March 1, 2009.

There is a fine painting show at The John Slade Ely House. Inviting Abstraction features the work of Willard Lustenader, Megan Craig and K. Levni Sinanoglu. It isn't a show of abstract paintings in the usual sense, although Megan Craig's work comes close. These are works that flirt with abstraction in various ways despite having one foot planted strongly in different representational traditions.

The ostensible subjects of Willard Lustenader's oil paintings are still lifes of paper cutouts on tabletops. For the most part, the pieces of paper are folded in half with each half coming to a peak like the roof of a house. There is the sense of models of little communities created by Monopoly pieces. But the real subject of Lustenader's paintings, the star—at least to my eyes—is light. In works like "Cut-outs with 1 Red and 2 Yellow," "White Cut-outs, 1 Gray" and the luminous "Cut-outs, 3 White," Lustenader immerses himself in not only the way the geometric shapes cast a multiplicity of shadows on the reflective surface. It's like he wields a prism in his paintbrush, channeling the waves to the linen surface. It is the substance of light made visible while remaining true to its quality as light. Both light and lightness.

Megan Craig's subject would appear to be blunt abstraction. Her paintings are inspired by household objects—a chair, for example—but aren't in any way representational. (Craig has previously built up a fine body of work painting cityscapes.) But as with Lustenader, the real subject is something else again: the kinetic pleasure of applying paint to surface.

There could hardly be a stronger contrast than that between Craig's approach and that of Lustenader. Where Lustenader works with the precise delineation of a trained classicist, Craig covers her panels or canvas with broad brush strokes of boldly stated color. In Lustenader's paintings, colors bleed imperceptibly into other colors based on observed principles of physics. Not so with Craig's paintings. Shape abuts shape. "Jubilee" is made up of four panels abutting each other. Each briskly applied brush stroke is 2—3 inches wide. You can see the physical energy expended in the act of painting. The paint coming off the bristles interacts with the underlying color layers to generate lines of force.

K. Levni Sinanoglu's paintings document a private metaphysical universe. Surrealism is certainly a touchstone. There is the stuff of dreams: birds in flight, strange elongated trees, ghostly figures and inscrutable architecture. Perspective is skewed, imagery is layered on imagery in the way one archaeological site may rest on top of another. Although dreamlike, there is a sense of order, suggested by the delicate use of gridwork in a way that references architectural drawings.

Ely House show open Saturday evening

John Slade Ely House Center for Contemporary Art
51 Trumbull Street, New Haven, (203) 624-8055
Inviting Abstraction
Jan. 25-Mar. 1, 2009
Opening reception: Sat., Jan. 31, 5-8 p.m.

Press release

Inviting Abstraction—a show of work by Megan Craig, Willard Lustenader and Levni Sinanoglu—opens at the John Slade Ely House in New Haven this Saturday night. The opening reception takes place from 5—8 p.m.