The Denver Post RedLine’s “Three Acts” asks dozens of photographers to capture aspects of an unsettling era

 

RedLine’s “Three Acts” asks dozens of photographers to capture aspects of an unsettling era

By Ray Mark Rinaldi, Special to The Denver Post Mar 15, 2021

Photos by André Ramos-Woodard greets visitors as they enter the exhibit “Three Acts.” (Provided by RedLine Art Center)

There are a lot of difficult photos to absorb at the sprawling exhibit “Three Acts” at RedLine Contemporary Art Center. Thousands of images are pinned to the gallery walls, many depicting shame, emotional suffering, family hurt, public humiliation, inner and outer conflict.

I can’t say it’s a lot of fun. But I can say that the timing is right. The last year has been one of extreme reckoning, both with ourselves and each other, and this exhibit aims to tie it all together — perhaps to wallow in our dark days one last time before we head on to the better days we all hope are around the next corner.

In that way, the show — it’s actually three separate shows woven together by curator Mark Sink — is meant as a response to current events that defined the past 12 months, the pandemic, the racial strife, the cultural and political turmoil. That said, it plays out more like a reflection, a mirroring that reminds us of the difficult themes of the day.

If you go

“Three Acts: A Survey of Shame, Emotion and Oblivion” continues through April 24 at RedLine Contemporary Art Center, 2350 Arapahoe St. It’s free but advance reservations are required due to the pandemic. Info at 303-296-4448, 2021 or redlineart.org.

That, of course, is what photography does best; it lets us take a picture of ourselves — even when we think we are taking photos of others. There are plenty of examples of that at RedLine.

Take the “Unperson Project,” described as an “archive of oblivion” and maintained by Andrea Tejeda and Susan Moyaho, who live in Mexico City. The two don’t take their own images but collect them from others, asking people to donate photos where they have obscured the identity of one or more of the subjects in the scene. It’s a form of cancel culture before it became a thing.

Images collected for the “Unperson Project,” one of three shows that form the core of the exhibit “Three Acts” at RedLine Art Center. (Ray Mark Rinaldi, Special to The Denver Post)

These images feel familiar since all of us at one point have attempted this sort of erasing, cutting out or marking over someone we unfriended or broke up with or abandoned, but still holding on to the photo because we value something else about it.

Tejeda and Moyaho bring emphasis to this common practice by blowing up these photos or exaggerating their color or grouping them en masse. There are hundreds of similar examples, though each proposes its own painful set of questions. What happened to this baby, that someone would rub out the face of the mother holding it? Why erase some identities from a class picture and not all of them? Did someone actually blot out the smiles of their entire family?

The “Unperson Project” underscores the futility of cancel culture. You can remove someone from the picture but you can’t forget the reason you did it, delete your memory or insult or lack of closure. Nor can you separate yourself from the aggression of your act. The altered photo stands as evidence of empowerment (if you stand by cancel culture) or revenge (if it offends you) or pain (either way).

The practice of making photo art by using other people’s photos is a trend in photography these days, and to a large degree it drives “Three Acts,” often to interesting places.

For “Shame Radiant,” Todd Edward Herman asked artists and non-artists to provide images of the last time they experienced shame. The 300 responses cover a lot of media, though mostly photography.

Heather Oelklaus’ “Gravity” is a centerpiece of “Three Acts” at RedLine Art Center. (Provided by RedLine Art Center)

The objects are assembled and attached in an oversized grid on RedLine’s back wall, coming together as a rogues’ gallery of everything that makes people feel bad about themselves, including the “political, emotional, physical, social, sexual, interpersonal, intergenerational and institutional aspects of shame,” as Herman sizes it up.

These photos imply things that are both obvious and obscure. Some people feel shame over their skin or body fat, others about breastfeeding in public, some over suicidal thoughts, others about the damage they do to the environment or the noises they make in the bathroom.

Herman’s goal here is to look at the influence of shame, and to explore how it is a force of both self-loathing and self-healing. Sometimes shame leads to cutting a wrist, but other times it drives people to challenge social norms and experiment with something like S&M or to blow off prejudice.

It’s easy to call out shame for its dangerous qualities, but brave to honor its superpowers. “Shame Radiant” is gripping because it dares to go both places.

As exhibits go, “Three Acts” can be hard to wrap your head around. There’s a lot going on and it is difficult to tell where one show stops and anther starts. One of the three main pillars of the overall exhibit is a series of works from the Denver Collage Club and Alto Gallery that are spread around the perimeter of the room. There is a loose theme to this grouping built around isolation and cancel culture, though it is enigmatic, mostly because the club is large and diverse and the exhibit isn’t arranged in a way that makes a clear point. That said, it’s full of worthy moments; you are just on your own figuring them out.

Also lost in the shuffle are two mini-exhibitions. One is titled “Pardon My Creep,” which looks at the impact that the digital revolution has on relationships and self-identity. Artists Kellye Eisworth and Britland Tracy combine found photos of couples with paper cutouts of text messages they have received from men via online dating.

For “Shame Radiant,” Todd Edward Herman uses contributed photos to explore the nature of shame. (Provided by RedLine Art Center)

Some of the messages are flirty and funny, like the one that reads “Are you Covid 19? Cause damn girl you take my breath away.” Others are searching and sad, like “Hello, I’m an alien.”

Sometimes “Pardon My Creep” feels like an exposé on exploitation and harassment. Other times it feels a little mean, like it’s making fun of people who are awkward at the romance game. Your personal experience with online matchmaking will likely determine your response.

Also easy to miss is a series of grouped objects by André Ramos-Woodard that might actually be the highlight of the whole “Three Acts” extravaganza. While most of the projects at the RedLine show look outward at shared social experiences, Ramos-Woodard takes a more personal approach.

His 16 photos and collages explore his own place in the world as a black and gay man and take on the idea of belonging, questioning notions of who is considered legit and who is “other” in this world. The pieces are small, edited and compellingly intimate. I suggest starting with them and giving them the time they deserve.

Otherwise, “Three Acts” is an invitation to wander and explore, to reflect, commiserate and, where possible, enjoy.