My journal of life and those lives that surround & influence me, both positively & negatively

Saturday, February 29

Life In The Arts Part 2/ Elizabeth Thebazilly Review


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In the many decades that I’ve been a artist/performer, I’ve often asked friends, girlfriends and relatives to attend a performance of mine, be it an open mic, a local gig with my band or even the occasional art show. Most of the time, the response falls on deaf ears. And when the moment is ripe, I’ve heard excuses like, “Oh, I have to wash the cat this weekend” or “My favorite TV show is on tonight, so I simply can’t.” And then there are those, by way of social media the moment they see the posting, “I’m so sorry I missed it!” or “Why didn’t you tell me!” or “Please remind me when it happens again, will ya?” or “Call me on the day you’re on.”
I do agree in some certain sense that there’s only so many shows you can attend, so there is that, but the majority of friends and acquaintances that I have, have never seen a show of mine and most likely never will, unless it’s on video, which a majority of them are, in print, which some are and/or if you’re performing with me, you get to experience live/firsthand.
In a previous entry I wrote that art can be very subjective, very subjective and that is correct. Our own concepts of art can run the gamut from a simple watercolor of a circus clown holding a dog to a more complex piece of art like a Jackson Pollock, Picasso or Vincent Van Gogh. People are either going to get it or not get it and that’s perfectly fine.
And then there are the artists themselves, who don’t often support other artists unless they’re in the same show together. Because there are only so many hours in the day and well, like friends and acquaintances, they too have legitimate as well as illegitimate reasons not to attend. In grad school, we were encouraged to go to other cohorts’ shows, whether academic or non-academic. 
Social media is nice for keeping in touch, but unless you go out and experience the art show or performance for yourself, meaning the live experience of how it makes you feel at the time, as opposed to watching it on video later, than you never will know.
I have this belief in supporting as many in my cohort as possible if I know of a show that they are having in advance. I know that there are conflicts with what I just posted above, but it is true. Video should be used to record for posterity, which is what I’ve been doing solidly in one form or another since the late 1980s. I’ve been audio recording since 1980 and have a lot of archival material as a result. People shouldn’t rely on a posterity video to experience a performance or an art show. You need to be there.
Having said all of that as a preface, let’s dive straight into a review of the solo show of Kankakee, Illinois-based artist, Elizabeth Thebazilly, a painter in her own right. I saw her show, Dripping In Earth, the afternoon of Thursday, February 20, 2020, at the Yellow Elephant Gallery, 150 North Schulyer Avenue, in downtown Kankakee, Illinois, just 90 minutes south of Chicago.
It was a bitter cold morning, when I arrived via Amtrak-but I had a good look around the downtown area, had a bite to eat and hung out at the beautiful Kankakee public library for a good chunk of the day and wrote freely.
In the mid-afternoon, I left the warmth of the public library, went outside, crossed the main intersection and I headed over to the gallery and stepped inside the smallish space. It was indeed tight inside, half of the walls dedicated to art, while the floor space, dedicated to overpriced art trinkets and supplies. It was a bright, clean space. An elderly woman got up from her seat and asked me if I needed help. I told her no, that I had come to view the exhibit in the gallery, as she sat down behind the wall from where she had been and went back to her magazine.  
As I viewed what hung before me, I noticed what strikes me the most about the 20 pieces of artwork in Thebazilly’s work is just that; her artwork is striking, colorful and so very fluid.
(Pink Walls, Elizabeth Thebazilly)
In Pink Walls, there’s a futuristic colorful appeal in the painting itself. Sprinkled throughout the painting are a number of human and animal heads, torsos and faces. I don’t know specifically if those are intentional or not or perhaps my pareidolia (Pareidolia is defined as the ability to see faces inside inanimate objects; it’s often associated with religious phenomena) is just kicking in. In this particular painting, I do know that Thebazilly has the gift of drawing the soul in rapidly with wonderment and awe.
Golden Bonzai is an eye-opening beauty, with its curious use of colors, and again humanlike faces are dotted within the work, including particularly this time, bananas and vegetable line likenesses.
(Golden, Elizabeth Thebazilly)
It’s her work, Golden that really takes the prize. Elongated unstructured lines with an almost asymmetry warm sunny playfulness to the piece. It’s very sensual within every brushstroke of the painting inviting and alluring, to the naked eye.
Another standout includes The Caves, which is blanketed with a pleasing array of color, faces and bits of fabric thrown in, giving the piece an almost collage mix feel to it.
Her show ended on February 22. I do hope that Thebazilly shows her work at perhaps a bigger gallery with an extended stay in the near future. Her ability to craft a painting is astonishing! Her style is futuristically moderate with an eye for the abstract. She is an artist well worth the investment.
 As I left the gallery and walked over to the bulletin board covered in screaming for attention business cards, the few pipe-dream real estate flyers with promises of money, I noticed the elderly woman closing up shop, never saying a word, as she walked quickly passed me by in the hallway.
I bundled up, stepped outside, walked around a bit more, got some sandwiches for the train ride home, stepped inside a thrift store and briefly perused it and walked back to the library, where I was parked on the 3rd floor for the next few hours, freely writing and reading until the appointed hour came to walk over to the train station.
It was cold that night, as I waited outside on the train platform. A woman I didn’t know, who sat in a rickety older SUV waved toward me and invited me to wait inside her running vehicle. We talked about a lot trivial things that I don’t even recall, as she dragged on six cigarettes in between. The kindness of her offer left me with a warm feeling overall. I thanked her and hopped out of her truck, just as the train approached. With the wind against my backpack, and the air frozen as I spoke to another passenger waiting for the train, I knew my time in Kankakee was well spent.
I will be back sooner than later, Kankakee.
Promise.

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