Nick Fagan brushes and splatters like an action painter, then cuts and layers domestic textiles. In “Rooted in Transit,” his two-person show with Lavaughan Jenkins at Abigail Ogilvy Gallery, he uses moving blankets in every work save a jazzy installation of crocheted afghans on the rear wall. Moving blankets are tough, padded, meant to protect. In this show, they tangle with children’s sheets and crocheted throws.
His piece “Hi-Fructose” conveys the chaos of dissolution. At the same time, it reads like something rough breaking away to reveal softness inside. Soft, but with an antic, thrift-store aesthetic. Nick says below that “Hi-Fructose” is “a representation of self as I deal with being bipolar.” It looks like agitated gestures trapped in sludge or concrete.
While the tension is fraught, the tactility is grounding.
Nick writes:
I set up a set of formulas/rules to give my process structure. The material elements build another structure to explore, based on the material and limitations I set. An example is moving blankets and crochet materials, and how to get the emotion out of them. The process is a play of extreme brush strokes and splatter. I set up boundaries to give my intuitive process direction and focus when working in the confined space of a large wall or stretched canvas.
I am cutting with an X-ACTO knife, carving away the first layer to reveal a second layer, then binding the two layers by sewing them together to make one. It looks like a painting, but I don’t see it that way.
It is more of a sculpture to me because I am adding and subtracting materials rather than contrasting foreground and background. My work has elements of painting, but to me they are sculptural techniques because of the physical process along with the texture of my chosen materials.
All material is randomly drawn; randomness can be diverted. Pre-existing ideas change along the way. How much attention to give each material through the boundaries I set for myself is a balancing act. Sometimes I go too far and need to push back, mostly subtracting things, balancing too much vs. too little visual info, or too much vs too little excitement. The more it entertains me, the more I look and see things I hadn’t seen previously. It’s like a Michael Bay movie with lots of action, but there is still a plot.
While working I view my process from the point of view of three viewers: the passive viewer captivated by the work’s aesthetic; my personal viewpoint and the meaning I am trying to portray, and lastly the critic. A person who has a background in the arts who looks at the work through a historical/technical lens. If all three check these criteria for the work then I know I have something strong.
“Hi-Fructose” is in a manic state. Materials were chosen because of polarity. Crochet materials are not utilitarian but made with love, and feel comforting. On the contrary, moving blankets have a purpose. They are used to move and help shield things, they were built to protect. “Hi-Fructose” is a representation of self as I deal with being bi-polar. The crochet and moving blankets represent my emotional state. The crochet is a gluttony of color wanting to show off and be expressive with feelings and wanting to be social, wanting to get out and dance. The moving blankets juxtapose the colorful crochet with an ugly subdued tone rife with rips and stains, wear and tear, to represent a desire to shut off from the world. Pale starkness between the two.
The process comes from intuitive moments. I don’t know why I make what I make. The meditative act of sewing and slowing down with the pieces makes. the purpose clear. It’s like smashing a plate. Why did you do it? You find out the answer while picking up the pieces. The act may have come from wanting to release anger, or maybe it was just an accident. Both provide an answer to what caused the breakage. The act of breaking is a release. It is a physical release for an emotional reset. It is healthy.
