Occupying the walls of an entire room of Asia Art Center’s (亞洲藝術中心) ground-floor gallery, Dawn Chorus — seven large canvas paintings depicting wild foliage, trees and forests — sing in unison of the inspirational beauty of the natural world.
“I painted them all at the same time,” LA-based artist Ross Caliendo tells the Taipei Times ahead of the exhibition opening, which was held on May 11 along with the opening of Exotica by Crystal Lupa (呂紹瑜), which is concurrently on show. “That way I could compare them and see how the different colors compliment and contrast with one another.”
The sense that the paintings are not just individual pieces but one conceptual work grows as you tour the room. One painting is deep green and autumnal, one fiery red and leafless, another purple, pink and evocative of spring. Yet all act as “a porthole to another world” as Caliendo puts it.
Photo: Thomas Bird, Taipei Times
According to the exhibition curators, these paintings were not just painted simultaneously but also “backwards,” a process that “involves the application of thick impasto over bright monochromatic underpainting in a contrasting color, that the artist then carves into with palette knifes, the back of brushes or other tools available in the studio to reveal the striking colors underneath.”
This unique approach, combined with a lifelong fascination with “color theory” as “reflected on the hue, value and chroma of his palette,” results in powerful interpretations of the flora that serves as the subject matter for the Dawn Chorus series.
PENNSYLVANIAN ORIGINS
Photo courtesy of Asia Art Center
While such artwork might reflect the lush valleys and blissful climate of California where Ross Caliendo lives and works, it feels a long way from the northern rustbelt city where he grew up.
“I’m actually from in Pittsburgh,” Caliendo, 36, says. “It’s an old industrial city. People say that it’s the sister city to Liverpool [in England].”
Despite being raised in an ostensibly blue-collar setting where “kids did sports,” Caliendo’s creative streak revealed itself early on.
Photo courtesy of Asia Art Center
“I was always doing creative things. I was the kid at school that could draw you the cartoon character that was popular on TV,” he says.
Curiously, Caliendo’s artistic abilities first provoked a desire to become a writer.
“I didn’t realize that the reason I wanted to be an author was because I was so interested in the covers of books. I was always making up these books so I could create the covers. Eventually, I figured out I wasn’t interested in writing but interested in drawing.”
Caliendo might have abandoned his literary aspirations early on, but a Tolkienesque other-worldliness combined with Henry David Thoreau’s naturalistic sensibilities invoke a poetic paradox in his work, one whereby the artwork appears to occupy the middle realm located somewhere between realism and fantasy.
“I don’t want to give the individual artworks names,” he says of the “untitled” paintings as we walk around the gallery space. “I let people decide what they are all about. I’m interested in energy and light, and I’ve just naturally come to this place where I’m using nature as an anchor.”
While Caliendo might not want to be too prescriptive about the meaning of his work, he does recall the time when he first saw the paintings that would go on to inform his art thereafter.
“When I was about 12 or 13 years old, my parents got me Saturday morning art classes at the Carnegie Museum of Art in Pittsburgh. A teacher took us around the museum. They had Egyptian art, medieval art, renaissance art right through to modern American art. And I remember there was work by [nineteenth century landscape painter] Winslow Homer and one by Willem de Kooning [a pioneering member of the twentieth century abstract impressionist movement]. These two types of paintings being right next to each other really blew me away. I didn’t understand how this naturalistic, beautiful painting could be placed next to this wild crazy splash of color. I found it inspiring because I just didn’t understand it. I realized then that being an artist was something that was possible. From that moment on, I was like, I’m just going to do that.”
Caliendo went on to undertake a Bachelor of Fine Arts (BFA) degree at Columbus College of Art and Design in Ohio, before relocating to Los Angeles, after briefly considering New York City as a base.
ART AS ENERGY
A decade in The Golden State had doubtlessly informed the artist’s work as light and nature are major elements in Caliendo’s paintings.
“The work is always transforming. I’m never really trying to say what the work is or isn’t about. Every piece is a journey and a reaction to the previous painting,” he explains of his process.
Living on the West Coast has also made him an established figure of the Pacific art scene, leading to opportunities across the pond, including Hong Kong and, of course, Taiwan.
“Melanie Ouyang Lum, who is one of the co-curators of this show, has been one of my major connections to the Asian art scene,” he explains. “I wouldn’t be here without her.”
But what does he think Taipei denizens will make of his multihued tree paintings on display in the concrete jungle of Neihu District (內湖)?
“I think nature is an amazing subject matter for artists ... because it is the closest thing to godliness,” he says.
“My hope is that the work sparks a sense of wonderment for being alive. I want the work to act as a catalyst, and a reminder that we are all together and present. I hope people connect with the work in that way.”
In the March 9 edition of the Taipei Times a piece by Ninon Godefroy ran with the headine “The quiet, gentle rhythm of Taiwan.” It started with the line “Taiwan is a small, humble place. There is no Eiffel Tower, no pyramids — no singular attraction that draws the world’s attention.” I laughed out loud at that. This was out of no disrespect for the author or the piece, which made some interesting analogies and good points about how both Din Tai Fung’s and Taiwan Semiconductor Manufacturing Co’s (TSMC, 台積電) meticulous attention to detail and quality are not quite up to
April 21 to April 27 Hsieh Er’s (謝娥) political fortunes were rising fast after she got out of jail and joined the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) in December 1945. Not only did she hold key positions in various committees, she was elected the only woman on the Taipei City Council and headed to Nanjing in 1946 as the sole Taiwanese female representative to the National Constituent Assembly. With the support of first lady Soong May-ling (宋美齡), she started the Taipei Women’s Association and Taiwan Provincial Women’s Association, where she
Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) Chairman Eric Chu (朱立倫) hatched a bold plan to charge forward and seize the initiative when he held a protest in front of the Taipei City Prosecutors’ Office. Though risky, because illegal, its success would help tackle at least six problems facing both himself and the KMT. What he did not see coming was Taipei Mayor Chiang Wan-an (將萬安) tripping him up out of the gate. In spite of Chu being the most consequential and successful KMT chairman since the early 2010s — arguably saving the party from financial ruin and restoring its electoral viability —
It is one of the more remarkable facts of Taiwan history that it was never occupied or claimed by any of the numerous kingdoms of southern China — Han or otherwise — that lay just across the water from it. None of their brilliant ministers ever discovered that Taiwan was a “core interest” of the state whose annexation was “inevitable.” As Paul Kua notes in an excellent monograph laying out how the Portuguese gave Taiwan the name “Formosa,” the first Europeans to express an interest in occupying Taiwan were the Spanish. Tonio Andrade in his seminal work, How Taiwan Became Chinese,
RSS