In Until the Sun Goes Dark, Taylor Davis’s second solo show with SEPTEMBER gallery at Kinderhook, NY, the Boston-based artist takes on the question of why we exist in a violent, volatile universe. She offers no answers, but through sculpture, painting, and works on paper, elicits inquiries into the nature of brutality by researching texts ranging from 2000-year-old biblical scriptures (Job 27:13- 23, Ecclesiastics 12: 5-8 and Psalm 57: 4-5) to modern writings by Ethnographer, Edward Linnaeus Keithahn and literature by William Gass, In The Heart of the Heart of the Country. Davis does not merely execute a plan to create work but relies on systems of chance and logic. She does not force her materials to bend to her intent but defers to the inherent nature of the materials she is using. Working in a similar manner to a call-and-response practice, her final pieces sometimes challenge the viewers’ initial comprehension of what they are actually seeing.
Mobile #5 hangs near a window, natural light permeating its entirety. This highlights spaces that are empty as well as those created with materials. In Asian art, empty space is referred to as Ma and is considered as critical as an image or object depicted. The empty spaces in Mobile #5 imbue this sculpture with a weightlessness and light that embodies the essence of Ma. Mobile #5 is about 48” x 48” but seems much larger. It also gives the sensation it might grow as it is being viewed. A dowel penetrates the top and turns ever so slightly. Composed of birch plywood, oil paint, ink, and collage, it is the essence of animated sculpture, but it is more, not exactly an object; it seems alive but has no definitive relationship to anything tangible. Hanging by a single thread of a wire or fishing line, it subtly moves, almost testing the viewer’s sanity, wondering if they really saw it move. Slivers of smooth birch bent in arbitrary directions are often crowding into each other. Each ribbon of wood has a unique character dependent on the collaged images.
Mundane advertisements, illustrations, and paintings of animals, fish, and birds adhere to the strips almost like postage stamps. Dabs of color and text in different fonts appear intermittently, breaking up and reducing the beauty of the natural wood. Unlike the coolness of minimalism, this piece exudes the intimacy of Davis’s hand. She relies on the materials as a collaborator as well as systems of chance rather than exerting power over the supports and mediums she chooses. Work evolves organically in contrast to traditional Western art. When violence is examined, the notion of overpowering something or someone is at its core. Davis’s work, exemplified in this piece, comes to fruition through respect for materials, nature, and her own logic and intuition rather than control.
Sprawling on the floor in the back room is Floor Work 4. As in Mobile #5, the wood, in its close-to-raw state, possesses a simple gravitas. It is the basis of our homes, shelters, and furniture. It is integral to our daily existence, an existence we rarely notice. Using chance and logic, Milled oak, red maple, beech, and black walnut are arranged on the floor in a manner that has all the traits of fine woodworking, all the shapes carved to fit other joints, mortises, and tenons, but… none of it fits. It looks as though the individual boards are shoving and pushing each other out of the way to try and fit. Floor Work 4 has all the elements of building a structure, but these are just the components. Sometimes, everything you need, including materials and skills, is not enough.
Wanting to engage the viewer is critical to Taylor Davis’s work. She has utilized the iconic image of the American flag in combination with texts emanating from ancient scriptures to involve the audience in looking meticulously at quotes that address issues such as space, identity, orientation, and, currently, violence. On the far wall in SEPTEMBER is an upside-down American flag, And They Shall Fear. Watercolor and gouache on paper. The title comes from a quote from Qohelet/Ecclesiastes, 12:5-8. Davis has researched texts that eerily reflect the times we live in currently, though they are thousands of years old:
And they shall fear high things, and terror is on the road. And the almond blossoms and the locust tree is laden, and the caper fruit falls apart. For man is going to his everlasting house, and the mourners go round about in the street. Until the silver cord is snapped and the golden bowl is crushed, the pitcher broken against the wall and the jug smashed at the pit. And dust returns to the earth as it was, and the life-breath returns to Who gave it. Merest breath, all is mere breath.
Qohelet/Ecclesiastes, 12:5-8
Davis paints each letter with a brush attached to a three-foot dowel. It is nearly impossible to read, and again, the empty space between each letter is as significant as the letter itself. Despite the extreme frustration in attempting to decipher the text, it has a certain magnetism that holds the audience’s attention as they try to comprehend what they are reading. Until the Sun Goes Dark is an exhibition intended to raise questions, not necessarily provide answers. Each piece challenges the viewer to think. Each artwork is created not by a set plan, not to produce a decorative object, but to encourage thought and discourse. In the end, why, as a species, are we so inhuman? Is there a chance or opportunity to evolve? Ecclesiastes, when translated from the Greek, means one who convenes an assembly. This Bible book presents several questions, and that is exactly what Davis has done at SEPTEMBER. Do not miss the chance to engage in this exhibit. You have till September 28, when SEPTEMBER hosts a closing celebration.
TAYLOR DAVIS: UNTIL THE SUN GOES DARK at SEPTEMBER
Extended through September 28th, 2024.
About the writer: Sara Farrell Okamura is an artist, writer, and arts educator based in North Adams, Massachusetts.