Athena Naylor

By Athena Naylor

This article was first published January 23, 2020 in The DC Line here.

Two exhibits on display this month at Dupont Circle’s Studio Gallery respond imaginatively to environmental themes, but the featured artists do so through wildly different approaches to aesthetic and ecological concerns.

The Jan. 3 receptions for Lois Kampinsky’s solo show On the Nature of Things and the group exhibition ReClaimed ReUsed RePurposed: Sustainable Art for the Planet were part of the new year’s inaugural First Friday Dupont event, a self-guided art walk around greater Dupont Circle that features stops at several galleries in the neighborhood. A closing reception is set for Saturday afternoon.

Titled after the only known work of the Roman poet Lucretius, On the Nature of Things posits that the natural world has been well-documented already but that, as Kampinsky says in her artist statement, “maybe it’s time to take a playful look, while [the natural world is] still here.” This sense of fun (though seemingly in the face of distress) manifests itself in the vibrant patterns in her paintings from the past few years, which comprise the majority of the exhibit.

Kampinsky’s strengths as an artist shine most in her abstract work. In her “Winglike” series of six 24-inch-by-19-inch gouache paintings, Kampinsky creates compositions that, though inspired by wings, ultimately read as non-representational. Interwoven streaks of color along with triangular shapes could just as easily remind viewers of plants, fish or geological forms. The natural world appears as a stepping-off point for Kampinsky’s more conspicuous artistic preoccupation, the visual relationships between shape and color.

Perhaps this is why her more literal portraits of animals do not feel quite as alive as her abstract paintings. In the large painting “Rabbit,” the flat profile of the titular animal is presented with little personality. The white and faint pale blues of the rabbit’s fur against the painting’s orange, twig-like background do not appeal as much as a color study as Kampinsky’s busier compositions. It is telling that the most visually interesting aspect of another large representational painting, “Bird on Nest,” is, in fact, the nest painted in abstract, tangled streaks of yellows, purples and greens. 

Representational subjects function best in Kampinsky’s paintings when animals are presented in large groups, like in her “Jungle Birds” series, where clusters of colorful birds fill up canvases and create a visual pattern. A similar effect occurs in the large canvas “Purple Flowers,” in which a cluster of flowers crowds the composition and appears almost alien nestled in an indistinct dark, moody atmosphere. Kampinsky’s large painting “Bugs” circles back to her self-proclaimed penchant for playfulness with a composition that situates the viewer at ground level among a tangle of vegetation rendered in neon colors and angular shapes. The titular animals peek out from the shadows, rendered in a nearly cartoonish way that leaves their classification uncertain — truly they can only be specified as “bugs.”

Kampinsky’s paintings display the artist’s love of nature in a traditional manner, with the natural world providing a springboard for aesthetic exploration in the familiar medium of painting. This is not the case in the lower level of Studio Gallery, where the production process of pieces included in ReClaimed ReUsed RePurposed more directly engages environmental concerns of sustainability.

As indicated by the title, the artworks in ReClaimed ReUsed RePurposed all explore, to varying degrees, the idea of recycling materials. While Kampinsky introduces playfulness in her paintings through color and shape, the artworks downstairs spark delight in both their aesthetic appeal and their use of unpredictable materials. 

One of the first pieces viewers encounter in the basement gallery is Gloria Chapa’s sculpture “CASCARAS (One of 5 Baptismal Fonts)” from 2019. Perched on a twisted base of vines, a large basin seems to shine orange under the gallery lights. With a closer look, one realizes what is contributing to the piece’s translucent glow: The basin is made entirely of onion skins held together by resin. As an inventive reimagination of a commonly overlooked material, Chapa’s installation excels.

Other striking pieces include Erwin Timmers’ contribution “Site Map 2.0,” constructed in 2019 from recycled glass along with reclaimed wood and steel. Timmers casts common detritus like bottle caps, soda cans and foam peanuts into gridded patterns within square glass molds. These glass panels protrude from the wall on steel rods connected to a black, backlit circular mount whose rim illustrates the jagged edge of a continuous skyline. The resulting aesthetic is sleek and urban. Through his artwork, Timmers examines how society consumes and discards resources, prompting the viewer to consider not only the end product of the artwork but its origin and process.

Other artists repurpose industrial materials as well. Sculptor Liz Lescault’s small steel pieces use recycled metal to create intuitive, biomorphic forms. Pat Goslee — who, like Kampinsky, primarily paints — creates her compositions on found objects, mainly discarded tabletops. The results are circular artworks — tondo paintings, to be specific — made of threads of color that feel like anxious vortexes. These entropic compositions reflect the artist’s view of her work as a chance to portray emotion, particularly of worry surrounding environmental distress and disaster. 

The pieces of Julia Bloom bring the exhibit back to the realm of natural materials with stick towers inspired by the architecture of nests and thickets and scaffolding. While these free-standing sculptures reference nature through their materials, they are ultimately transformed into something new through the addition of bright primary colors.

Paper artist Jessica Beels, acknowledging that art itself can generate waste, creates collages from the leftover scraps of her past projects. In her compositions, she repurposes paper fragments and creates new handmade paper using discarded denim and other found materials like junk mail, invasive plants and even plastic bags, again calling attention to consumption and the potential of what’s often overlooked or discarded.

If there is one outlier in ReUsed ReClaimed RePurposed, it would be Robin Bell, whose pieces fill the back room of the basement gallery. A video artist known for his site-specific projections installed around DC, Bell takes a more conceptual approach to the question of reuse. (You may remember that Bell was in the news last March when his collaborator was arrested while setting up an installation at the Rayburn House Office Building.)

In effect, Bell recycles his old work. His pieces at Studio Gallery either incorporate elements from earlier installations or are previously created works presented exactly as they were when first made in order to examine how differing temporal and spatial contexts may affect an artwork’s reception and meaning. 

Bell’s contribution to the exhibit stands out because it relies on video components whereas the works by other artists are more concerned with tangible materials. His installations also noticeably push environmental and political anxiety to the forefront.

The year 2020 has already witnessed increasing levels of environmental catastrophe — from the ongoing Australian wildfires to the recent earthquake in Puerto Rico — and the world will continue to face the dangers of rising global temperatures and augmented natural disasters. The fanciful paintings of Kampinsky and the inventive installations in ReClaimed ReUsed RePurposed touch on these concerns, but often relegate the sense of dread surrounding environmental issues to the periphery in works that initially present as aesthetically appealing and fun. In contrast, a work like Bell’s “Death comes from the top, resistance comes from the bottom,” dated 2019/2020, forces viewers to confront current circumstances and, literally, themselves. 

In “Death comes from the top,” the viewer stands in front of a full-length mirror over which hangs a small TV screen. The monitor plays a looped video in which the camera zooms out to reveal a kitschy metallic skull wearing a red cap with the phrase “THIS IS NOT NORMAL” stitched to the front. The politically charged message paired with the skull comprises a contemporary memento mori easily applicable to current environmental circumstances. The inclusion of a mirror that makes viewers face themselves then provokes the question of what we can and should do in these atypical times. The question can expand to encompass the entire gallery: During alarming times, in what ways may artists react or resist?

by Athena Naylor

This article was first published on The DC Line and can be read on their website here.

Artistic portrayals of Washington frequently draw from one or more of the city’s distinguishing landmarks to convey a sense of place, whether that involves highlighting skylines sculpted by the Washington Monument and the Capitol Dome or illustrating vistas of the National Mall and Lincoln Memorial that evoke the nation’s popular imagination. At Artist’s Proof Gallery in Georgetown, however, an ongoing exhibition of drawings and paintings titled Bridges and Alleys: A Collection of Works by DC-based artist Scott Ivey offers an alternative vision of DC removed from nationally recognizable landmarks. The exhibit provides a more intimate, quotidian portrait of the city — one that’s frankly relatable to local residents.

The strength of the 14 paintings and drawings on display in Bridges and Alleys derives from Ivey’s personal connection to DC. Ivey was born in North Carolina and first came to Washington as a student, receiving training from Montgomery College in Takoma Park and the Corcoran School of Art in DC before eventually getting his Bachelor of Fine Arts degree from the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) in 1987. Since that time, Ivey has lived in DC and focused his practice on painterly urban landscapes. Currently residing in Georgetown, Ivey pays homage through his works to DC neighborhoods such as Shaw, Dupont Circle, Adams Morgan, Southwest and downtown.

Ivey’s views of DC seem simultaneously immediate and meditative, specific and dreamlike. Rather than searching for scenes to illustrate, Ivey allows images to find him, often finding inspiration while running errands and or taking neighborhood strolls. His charcoal drawings achieve a ghostly effect reminiscent of old photographs, composed of faint lines and overexposed expanses of white contrasted with indistinct swaths of shadow. His 1988 drawing Rainy Scene is particularly enigmatic, with houses on an unnamed street depicted through abstract, atmospheric shapes. 

Ivey’s oil paintings appear preoccupied by light and often highlight a less obvious characteristic specific to DC’s urban landscape: the sweeping views of sky afforded by the city’s building-height restrictions. The paintings 19th Street (2000) and Rosslyn (2003) particularly focus on this aspect of the urban landscape: The former shows the hazy atmosphere above a cloudy day in DC, the latter illustrates the Northern Virginia skyline from a great distance, dwarfed by a morning sky striped with sun-kissed clouds. 

The seeming specificity of light in Ivey’s works stems from his practice of drafting on-site studies of scenes. These preliminary sketches are translated into final pieces through years of gradual, meditative work. Rather than portraying distinct moments in time, Ivey’s landscapes transform into portraits of feeling and memory encapsulated by place. “I intentionally start with a dark background, slowly introducing light into the painting; the scenes slowly reveal themselves in the emerging light,” Ivey says in a bio on his website. 

The often moody and melancholic nature of Ivey’s work also points to his artistic influences, including American realist Edward Hopper. In a manner similar to Hopper’s paintings, Ivey’s depictions of DC are of a strangely deserted city, devoid of pedestrians. Often, the only signs of life come from shadowy cars or blurred headlights on streets and bridges. Hopper’s influence is clear from Ivey’s online bio, which ends with the famous Hopper quote, “If you could say it in words there would be no reason to paint.”

Ivey will be speaking about his process and practice on Wednesday, Aug. 14, during an evening workshop at Artist’s Proof Gallery. Bridges and Alleys will remain open to the public through Aug. 24, providing time for visitors to stop by and consider how the artist’s depictions of DC coincide or diverge from their own personal experiences of the city.

“Bridges and Alleys: A Collection of Works by Washington DC Artist Scott Ivey” opened at Artist’s Proof Gallery and Art Consultancy on July 17 and will close on Aug. 24. Located at 1533 Wisconsin Ave. NW, Artist’s Proof is open Tuesday through Saturday from 10 a.m. to 6 p.m.

by Athena Naylor

This article was first published on The DC Line and can be read on their website here.

The Shaw neighborhood’s Anthony Bowen YMCA, the organization’s first African American branch in the world, has an extensive track record of social engagement spanning its 166-year history. With Gallery Y, an exhibition space that debuted last year, the Anthony Bowen YMCA aims to further its mission to foster diverse local voices within the creative community.

Gallery Y, which acts as an open community space accessible both through the lobby of the YMCA and the adjacent Sweetgreen restaurant, currently displays 28 pieces by artist-in-residence Tracy Monsanto. Her show A Journey in Mixed Media opened June 7 in conjunction with National Caribbean Heritage Month, a celebration dedicated to honoring the history and diversity of the Caribbean islands and the numerous cultural contributions of Caribbean Americans.

Monsanto — a Caribbean American artist who grew up in Trinidad and now lives and works in Tampa, Florida — specializes in vibrant mixed-media pieces. While A Journey in Mixed Media features some stylized figurative work, Monsanto’s creative process shines most in her non-figural abstract pieces, which illustrate the artist’s interest in intuitively exploring relationships among color, texture and material. 

Monsanto’s larger works, like her 2019 “Time to Refresh,” highlight collaged materials of hand-painted papers and found objects, while smaller pieces like her 2016 composition “Night Dreams” feature mark-making suggestive of personal artistic motifs. Monsanto’s “Love Holds Us Together II,” completed in 2019, features the artist’s use of thick paint with glaze, a process that results in an almost enamel-like effect. In this piece, the technique results in an organic green form on the canvas that feels almost geographic, a fitting association since Monsanto derives much of her inspiration from nature.

The exhibit’s opening marked the one-year anniversary of Gallery Y. Diane Taitt, executive director of the Anthony Bowen YMCA, developed the gallery space and artist residency in order to foster community engagement and collaboration in the Shaw neighborhood and beyond. 

In its first year, Gallery Y launched three shows, starting with its inaugural artist-in-residence, Marielle Barrow. Barrow, a Caribbean-born visual artist, social entrepreneur and arts management consultant, earned her doctorate in cultural studies at George Mason University. Her show also coincided with Caribbean Heritage Month and examined cultural associations among place, space and belonging. The gallery hosted the launch of Barrow’s book Sacred Spaces: A Sense of Place, co-written with Antonius Roberts, and her residency included a Caribbean American Heritage event. Barrow continues to engage with her Caribbean heritage through the arts journal she founded, Caribbean Intransit.

Last September, Gallery Y presented its second exhibit — Seven Centuries, which featured Leslie Anne Hansley’s paintings inspired by African masks along with the photography of Maryland-based photojournalist Donovan Marks. More recently, the Rev. Sandra Butler-Truesdale, another Gallery Y artist-in-residence and the president and founder of DC Legendary Musicians, organized an “Art Meets Music” event in May that celebrated the DC jazz scene. 

With Tracy Monsanto’s A Journey in Mixed Media, Gallery Y is kicking off its second year of exhibitions. 

Through Gallery Y, the Anthony Bowen YMCA is building on a history of cultivating creativity in the community. Established by religious leader and educator Anthony Bowen in 1853, the organization found its first permanent home at 1816 12th St. NW in 1912, seven years after it was officially recognized as a branch of the YMCA of Washington. It was there that Langston Hughes wrote poetry when he was working as a busboy, Thurgood Marshall devised legal strategies, and legendary Georgetown University basketball coach John Thompson Jr. practiced his game. The YMCA branch was formally named after Bowen in 1972, and in 1988 it moved to its new location on W Street NW, which was renovated in 2013. 

Gallery Y looks toward a future of continued community engagement with new projects, including its first National Endowment for the Arts grant and a partnership with local curator Beth Ferraro of the creative consulting project The Art Island.

The YMCA’s Taitt expressed excitement for Gallery Y’s role as a “vibrant cultural community node.” She says the gallery is always on the lookout for new partnerships, funding and volunteers to sustain its mission. Details on the space’s programming and opportunities are available on its website. 

Located in the Anthony Bowen YMCA at 1325 W St. NW, Gallery Y is open daily from 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. A Journey in Mixed Media opened June 7 and will be on display through Aug. 2. All exhibited artworks are for sale.

by Athena Naylor

This article was first published on The DC Line and can be read on their website here.

An expansive new exhibit at American University’s Katzen Arts Center offers a survey of contemporary sculpture and photographs through works donated by lobbyist and internationally influential art collector Tony Podesta — including many originally given to the Corcoran Gallery of Art.

The Gifts of Tony Podesta— on display at the American University Museum through March 17 — highlights the work of 26 artists while celebrating Podesta’s aesthetic eye.

The exhibit, the first major show drawn from American University’s Corcoran Legacy Collection, takes up two floors of the museum. It showcases items from the holdings bestowed to American when the Corcoran was folded into The George Washington University in 2014, along with work that Podesta has donated directly within the past five years.

Podesta has been a longtime champion of contemporary female artists. The Katzen’s last show featuring his collection — 2011’s Inner Piece: Works From the Heather and Tony Podesta Collection — focused specifically on this aspect of his holdings, displaying the work of four notable women photographers and painters. The Gifts of Tony Podesta offers a broader exploration of his collection.

Photography steals the show in The Gifts of Tony Podesta, comprising the majority of items on display. Jennifer Sakai, an art professor at George Washington who curated the photographic portion of the exhibit, remarks in wall signage how Podesta’s photographic collection “creates beguiling and mysterious narratives.” Almost all the photography included in Gifts provides some sense of story, often creating visual tension through the incorporation of both familiar and unexpected narratives.

One of the first pieces the viewer encounters in Gifts is Mwangi Hutter’s If, a 50-inch-by-66-inch chromogenic print that displays a disorientingscene. The 2003 photograph is based off a propaganda image of Hitler, in which he is depicted surrounded by a cluster of “ideal” Aryan women. Mwangi Hutter, an artistic collective made up of partners Ingrid Mwangi and Robert Hutter, reimagines this scene, placing a superimposition on Hitler’s face and replacing the women with repeated images of Ingrid Mwangistaring at the Hitler stand-in, toward the camera or off to the side. Her clones wear different outfits, take on different gestures and crowd the image. The viewer feels invited into this grouping that explores the layered racial and historical dynamics of Mwangi Hutter’s identity-focused art practice.

If introduces the viewer to the kind of decoding required of many of the narratives featured in Gifts, as multiple photographs in the show consider decontextualized stories and subverted archetypes. Prints by Anna Gaskell, a contemporary photographer whose work often references gothic fiction and fairy tales, place viewers in the middle of unexplained stories. In Gaskell’s 1998 print Untitled #44 (Hide), a limp, wet hand lays in a puddle on a hardwood floor, while in Untitled #47 (Hide) from the same year, a blond girl in white pins down a possible doppelganger in a shot from above that obscures both characters’ faces, offering snippets of a longer narrative at which viewers can only guess.

Even in works not so figuratively focused, there is a sense of narrative sequence. A standout inclusion is Darren Almond’s Six Months Later, a 24-part piece composed of 1,440 tiny photographs that depict the artist’s studio minute by minute over the course of 24 hours. In this 1999 work, the viewer can track the passage of time via the black digital clock on the wall of each identically composed shot, which differ onlyin the quality of light shining through the scene as the day progresses. These small, incremental photographs form a monumental installation, creating a simultaneously intimate and imposing portrait of time.

The sculptural portion of The Gifts of Tony Podesta, coordinated by Klaus Ottmann, chief curator of the Phillips Collection, simultaneously seems to connect and diverge thematically from the photographic work presented.

A highlight of the sculpture in the show is artistic duo Jake and Dinos Chapman’s 1999 Rape of Creativity, a miniature diorama that depicts a man who has chopped off his own hand (one assumes accidentally) while carving a female wooden torso from a log. The diorama delights with remarkably minute details, such as the miniscule beer bottles visible when one peers inside the man’s tiny RV. Circling the small scene, one notices a dog with a sheep’s head carrying the man’s dismembered hand in its mouth. The play between mundane familiarity and surreality within the scene clearly relates The Rape of Creativity to the kinds of beguiling narratives offered by the photography in the rest of the show.

A similar sense of surreal narrative permeates the work of Australian artist Patricia Piccinini, whose installation Siren Mole: Excellocephala Parthenopa from 2000 is an animatronic sculpture of two imagined creatures in a glass enclosure like those commonly found in biology labs. Swedish artist Ann-Sofi Sidén’s fountain Fideicommissum offers another figural sculpture for the show, depicting a self-portrait of the artist urinating that makes the viewer aware of one’s body and privacy. The peeing woman’s eyes are closed, positioning the viewer as a voyeur. However, when squatting to admire the sculpture, we find ourselves in the same peeing position as Sidén, transforming us from a distanced observer into a self-conscious, vicarious participant.

Other sculptural selections — such as Jone Kvie’s Untitled globular stainless steel mushroom cloud, Janaina Tschape’s suitcase filled with two water-filled latex balloons, and Gyan Panchal’s two standing pieces of foam board titled Papyri, all from the 2000s — may seem too abstract and out of place in contrast to the other, more figural components of the Gifts of Tony Podesta. However, the diversity of work on display is no detriment to the exhibit. After all, The Gifts of Tony Podesta makes no claim to coherence besides the fact that Podesta collected all pieces on display.

While the works on display in The Gifts of Tony Podesta portray people and places, the exhibit as a whole functions as a portrait of Podesta himself and his avocation as an art collector. In the foreword to the exhibition catalog for the show, the guest curators and contributing essayists — including National Museum of Women in the Arts director Susan Fisher Sterling and NMWA chief curator Kathryn Wat — provide insights that “add another level to an already satisfying experience.”

The “gifts” in The Gifts of Tony Podesta extend beyond the physical objects on display to more broadly include Podesta’s aesthetic taste as a collector. It is best to experience the collection in person and create one’s own connections to the presented objects and narratives. There is inevitably more to see and say about such a dense and rich exhibit. To view it is a worthy time investment, especially for anyone who has missed being able to access the Corcoran’s old holdings.

The Gifts of Tony Podesta is on view through March 17 at the American University Museum at the Katzen Arts Center at 4400 Massachusetts Ave. NW. Regular museum hours are 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Tuesday through Sunday.

by Athena Naylor

This article was first published in The DC Line and can be read on that site here.

Each winter, DC offers a variety of spectacles that coincide with the Season of Light, from ZooLights at the National Zoo to the public light art display GLOW in Georgetown. This year, the Susan Calloway Fine Arts gallery contributes its own luminous display to the season with its show Drawn by Light, a retrospective of neon sculpture artist and DC resident Craig Kraft on display through Friday.

You may have seen Kraft’s work without realizing it. His studio in Anacostia is responsible for the neon sculpture outside the Shaw (Watha T. Daniel) Neighborhood Library, along with an array of other commissioned light sculptures brightening public spots in Silver Spring, Rockville and Arlington. At the Susan Calloway gallery in Georgetown, the Drawn by Light exhibit acquaints viewers with Kraft’s smaller, more personal projects, offering a concise yet eclectic selection of works from his 35-year career.

Kraft is a master and devoted advocate of neon light as an artistic medium, which he appreciates for its versatility in color and form. He has taught neon light sculpture at the Smithsonian Institution Studio Arts Program since 1992.

On his website, Kraft describes the nature of light as something “tangible but intangible” that “begs questions of perception and importance.”

This artistic philosophy can be seen in various works in the gallery show, including “Ground Zero III.” In this piece from 2013, Kraft uses neon tubing to highlight a drawn lizard in a photograph of dense graffiti inside the Ground Zero Blues Club in Clarksdale, Mississippi. The neon tubing interacts with and transforms the photograph, altering our perception of the graffiti and its symbols. Kraft adds his own mark to an image already filled with layered inscriptions that span the history of the Ground Zero establishment.

The concept of mark-making has been a significant focus of Kraft’s practice in recent years, and has motivated him to travel to Africa, Southeast Asia and Europe to view some of the oldest known human rock and cave drawings. These trips inspired several works in Drawn by Light, including “Castillo Hands Flickering Light.” This piece re-creates the prehistoric hand stencils found in the Cave of El Castillo in Spain through acrylic paint on paper, which Kraft backlights with a pulsing glow that mimics the flickering light on a cave wall.  

Kraft’s travels also inspired one of the more striking pieces in the exhibit, “The Damaged Spirit of the African Elephant.” Made of parallel layers of bright blue aluminum and neon tubing bent into three dimensions, the piece depicts the head of an elephant with glowing red marks dissecting its trunks, referencing the ongoing poaching of this endangered species.

Regarding this piece and a related larger elephant sculpture in his studio, Kraft writes that light can represent the simultaneously material and immaterial of an animal spirit, suggesting “an inner spiritual world much more complex than its outer appearance.”

Pieces like this do lose some impact, however, because they are isolated from their companion pieces from Kraft’s full series. In particular, “Castillo Hands” would benefit from the contextualizing company of the other light sculptures in Kraft’s “Cave Drawings” series.

In Drawn to Light, the works that really shine (both literally and figuratively) are those that explicitly celebrate neon light, without using the medium to illuminate or represent another visual or physical component. “Pulsing Neon,” for example, comprises an abstract tangle of different-colored neon tubes crammed into a shadow box. The neon jumble emits a gently pulsing light that makes the piece feel alive, like a breathing, organic circuit.

“Unintentional Drawing III,” from 2009, presents the viewer with an abstract drawing composed of swirling tubes of blue neon light. The title is engaging because it seems contradictory to the artwork. Nothing appears unintentional in this piece, the only one in the exhibit that allows viewers to peer behind the back panel and see the electrical wiring — a glimpse of the immense forethought that must go into each neon work.

Both “Pulsing Neon” and “Unintentional Drawing III” highlight Kraft’s interest in recognizing the overlooked, reconstructing new pieces out of random discarded materials in his studio. The neon tubing in the latter piece is a translation of a mindless doodle Kraft then reimagined into a massive light sculpture, suggesting the meaningful significance in unconscious actions and creations.

The pieces reviewed here are a small selection of the works displayed in Drawn by Light. To present 35 years of work in a small, upstairs gallery is a challenge, especially for a retrospective show, but the exhibit offers a succinct introduction to Kraft’s artistry beyond his more monumental public sculptures. The gallery show is a welcome stop for anyone who appreciates the manifold possibilities of light during a dark winter.

Drawn by Light opened on Nov. 30 and will be on view through Dec. 28 at the Susan Calloway Fine Arts gallery at 1643 Wisconsin Ave. NW. To learn more about Craig Kraft and his studio, you can visit his website and read about his travels through his contributions to the magazine Timeless Travels.

by Athena Naylor

This article was first published in The DC Line.

Last month’s pivotal midterm election provoked heightened frustration over DC’s lack of a vote in Congress. District residents on Nov. 6 may have found themselves longingly gazing across the Potomac River to spy on Arlington County, where ballots provided choices for voting members of the House and Senate and where residents did not drive to the polls with license plates that decry the continued condition of “taxation without representation.”

This scene of a lonely and left-out DC (minus the detail of motor vehicles) is reflected in one of the seven C.K. Berryman cartoons now on display indefinitely on the fifth floor of the John A. Wilson Building, which houses the offices of the District’s mayor and council. This tribute to Berryman, in addition to celebrating a distinguished DC cartoonist, pointedly illustrates the longevity of the city’s struggle for a political voice.

Clifford Kennedy Berryman was an influential political cartoonist who began his career during the Gilded Age, a post-Civil War period marked by superficial displays of wealth masking deep social inequalities. That time also coincides with the golden age of American political cartoons and the rise of print publications such as Harper’s Weekly, Puck and Judge.

In 1891, Berryman began working for The Washington Post before going on to work for the Washington Star from 1907 until his death in 1949. He received a Pulitzer Prize for his editorial work in 1944.

Berryman is perhaps best known for penning the drawing of President Theodore Roosevelt refusing to shoot a bear that inspired the production of teddy bears. In fact, visitors who view the cartoons in the Wilson Building should keep an eye out for a trumpeting bear in one of the illustrations. This bear became a recurring character and mascot for Berryman’s career, often appearing as an additional commentator to his scenes and linking the artist’s later works to the famous cartoon that made teddy bears a national phenomenon.

Berryman also drew the 1898 cartoon that popularized the well-known rallying cry “Remember the Maine!” during the Spanish-American War. The tribute in the Wilson Building highlights another dominant motif of Berryman’s career: his frequent commentary during his tenure at the Washington Star on DC’s lack of congressional power.

Around the corner from the Council Chamber and near the office of DC Council Chairman Phil Mendelson, visitors can find prints of seven cartoons about “voteless DC” surrounding a painting of Berryman by Richard Sumner Meryman Sr. that was previously part of the Corcoran Gallery of Art’s collection and is on long-term loan to the DC Council from American University, the current owner. In each illustration, Berryman represents DC as a stout man in 18th-century clothing, including a powdered wig, tricorn hat, buckle shoes, and small round glasses. DC’s relatively stout stature serves as a visual contrast to lanky Uncle Sam, who appears in several of the selected cartoons either ignoring DC or requesting taxes and soldiers despite DC’s complaints of taxation without representation.

This all-too-familiar slogan often appears on the image of a ball and chain that keeps Berryman’s DC anchored to Revolutionary-era sentiments and frustrations. In one cartoon, Berryman draws DC gazing up at a painting depicting the “beginning of the war against taxation without representation, April 19, 1775” while DC remarks, “That war was never won, if you ask me!”

Other illustrations directly reference the Boston Tea Party, including one cartoon recognizing the 163rd anniversary of the event and another showing a waterlogged DC in the tea-filled harbor exclaiming, “Hey! It was the tea, not me, to go overboard!”

Either cathartic or frustrating in their illustration of DC’s long and continued fight for voting rights, the Berryman cartoons in the Wilson Building — created more than seven decades ago — remain relatable to the modern eye. Considering their shared political content, the illustrations’ current location beside municipal offices is appropriate.

Visiting the Berryman tribute during its indefinite tenure in the Wilson Building is certainly worthwhile for an up-close view of Berryman’s detailed, cross-hatched pen illustrations, and to contemplate the history of political cartoons in a city where editorial illustration continues to thrive.

With only seven cartoons on display, the Wilson Building tribute that debuted this fall can hardly give a sense of Berryman’s prolific career. For those interested in further exploring Berryman’s extensive oeuvre and the other subjects his cartoons illustrated, the Library of Congress holds many prints, and the DC Public Library holds a digital collection of 108 Berryman cartoons that are accessible online.