Review

"The Prodigal Son," Oil and Acrylic on Canvas.

Jessica McGan
Secrets of the Soul
(Group Show)

5-9 p.m.
(Opening reception)

Gas Light Gallery and Studio
12 E. Peoria, Suite 200
Paola, KS
913.963.4201

Hours after Opening Reception: Noon-6 p.m. Monday-Thursday, 10 a.m.-4 p.m. Friday-Saturday.
Runs through: March 20.

"Cleave" is a funny word. Its two main meanings are antonyms: to unite and to divide.

Art lives up to both definitions. It builds bridges and blows them up, tears down walls and raises them, reminds us simultaneously that We're all in this together and We're all on our own.

Jessica McGan's portion of the Secrets of the Soul group show, which opens tonight at Gas Light Gallery and Studio in Paola, draws that power from a symbol which also serves to split and knit.

McGan makes use of flag imagery in her newest work, a collection of small gouache-on-bristol paintings, and also in a series she conceived while she was a grad student at Pittsburg State University.

The former pieces all imply the presence of people rather than depicting them outright. Their subjects would be invisible if not for their clothing and the flags they carry (and, sometimes, for the flags they wear as clothing).  Several show the Stars and Stripes presented with pride and reverence; in another, the flag is worn a mask and the piece is titled I ... should not be afraid of my government.

(That sort of thing does happens in real life, by the way. During a World Cup qualifier last year in Havana, several fans from the U.S. wore flags as masks. The alternative: prosecution for violating the State Department's ban on nearly all travel to Cuba.)

The small works in the I ... series represent not only an exploration of the human figure, McGan explains, but also a study of identity and memory.

The collection of older pieces, titled 8 of 14, was done in oil and acrylic on unstretched canvas. For this group show, which also includes George Rousis' iron work and abstract paintings by Jennifer Rivera, the unstretched pieces are displayed like banners.

(Her choice not to stretch the canvases cost her points during her grad school review, McGan says, but to fix them to wooden frames would undercut her vision for the pieces: "They're supposed to flow. They're supposed to move. They're supposed to breathe."

Where McGan's newest work deals with faceless people, those she depicts in 8 of 14 are fully human in all aspects, sometimes infuriatingly or — as with the small boy in The Prodigal Son, pictured above — heartbreakingly so.

(The pieces come in sets of two, so when the series is finished there will be seven pairs. McGan has finished eight of the 14, hence the series' title, and is showing six of the eight at Gas Light.)

The series "8 of 14" has a conceptual base in the Seven Deadly Sins, McGan writes. While the imagery is generic, it holds a starting point for a personal dialogue with its audience allowing each viewer to complete the statement. For each image, a counterpart, adult to child, not only contrasts but contradicts the other. Actions so innocent as a child can have dire consequences as an adult, and what we as adults partake in will be seen by children.  What is acceptable for one is not always for the better or for the other.

For viewers of any age, McGan's works (both old and new) offer emotional resonance and visual engagement. They're as likely to bring people to agreement as to divide them along artistic or ideological lines.

In short, this is a show with the power to cleave.

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