OVERVIEW | CV | PRESS | GALLERY EXHIBITIONS
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Chris Duncan with two of his daughters, Oakland, CA, 2021
Halsey McKay Gallery is thrilled to present STILL, new work by Chris Duncan, accompanied with essays by artists, Ernesto Burgos, Dionne Lee, Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe, and curator Lawrence Rinder. STILL, offers seven new works that are an amalgam of textile, photography and painting along with a sculptural time capsule that encases Duncan’s debut full length record, With Light, and one of his signature hand-made books. These works will be available in the viewing room until June 30.
Continuing his exploration of the sun as metaphor, inspiration and fabricator, Chris Duncan’s works begin by absorbing its rays over prolonged periods. Color fabric is wrapped, pinned and draped, around specific objects and left to absorb the elements of their surrounding environment. Without the use of dye, emulsion or any purposefully manipulated chemical process, imagery emerges through months of ultraviolet sun bleaching. These exposures act as markers of time and an outlet for Duncan to capture sites and objects that are part of his life and practice.
Where previous compositions were unwrapped to reveal completed, almost narrative, depictions of the skylight of his studio, windows of his home, drums, stereo speakers, and bricks, these new works begin from failed exposures. Lacking any captured likeness to their origins, these latest pieces begin from an abstract haze. Solid shapes of color are sewn around these ethereal fields as loose borders that imply portals or openings to the sea. Fine lines of geometry are then hand-painted onto the fabric, creating further illusory space, and reclaiming them as authored paintings.
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Studio view, April, 2021, Oakland, CA
Sun Exposure by Lawrence Rinder
Some two thousand years ago, the Roman philosopher Lucretius gave this remarkable description of images:
These almost airy substances, are drawn
From surfaces; you might call them film, or bark,
Something like skin, that keeps the look, the shape
Of what it held before its wandering.1
An image, for Lucretius, is a two-dimensional phenomenon that bears an indexical relationship to its point of origin. That is to say, the image is a “skin” or “bark” that has been drawn directly—even physically–from its source and records in itself not just the look, but also the character, of that which it represents.
Sunlight is an image. It appears to be everywhere, permeating space and reflecting off of objects like a bright, disembodied ether. It is, in fact, the sun’s picture. Try an experiment the next time you are under a leafy tree: you’ll notice that the sun’s rays fall upon the ground in countless small circles. These aren’t just any old circles: they are images of the sun. Proof of this can be found during an eclipse when you will notice these circles becoming crescents as the moon shades the giver of light in real time.
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Chris Duncan
STILL (6 Month Exposure) PACIFICA 1 , 2021
Sun, time, fabric, thread, paint
20 x 24 inches (50.8 x 61 cm)
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Alternate view:STILL (6 Month Exposure) PACIFICA 1 , 2021
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Detail: STILL (6 Month Exposure) PACIFICA 1 , 2021
Most pictures are images of reflected light. We see things because the sun’s rays (or artificial light) has bounced off of them and, dividing in spectral colors and variations of brightness, creates the impression of a thing. Pictures of sunlight would seem to be something different. Here we are dealing with the source, the energy that enables all seeing, yet which is, as we have seen, already a picture. Given its ubiquity and mysteriousness, you’d think that more artists would have tried to capture images of light, that is light as it falls directly from the sun. Two or three come to mind: James Turrell, Charles Ross, and the young Bay Area photographer Chris McCaw. Each of these has found ways to capture something of the essence of sunlight as an image.
In keeping with Lucretius’s observation about images retaining something of their source beyond mere appearance, we can see in McCaw’s photographs, that even as sunlight creates an image by means of a camera obscura it can even burn the paper on which the image appears. Ross’s “images” meanwhile, are nothing but the burn.
Christopher Duncan’s sun exposure works similarly capture the ability of an image of sunlight to express (in the Lucretian sense) the sun’s inherent properties of fire and heat. In Duncan’s case, this is expressed through fading, which is the oxidation—or very slow burning—of the dye in the material on which the image is rendered. We have all seen things fade in sunlight. It is a commonplace of our everyday lives. However, like the miniature Suns that dance beneath every tree in daylight, Duncan’s works bear the unmistakable appearance of images.
Duncan’s sun exposures are different from a direct projection of the sun itself. Rather, they capture the patterns that sunlight creates as it meets and interacts with material that has been folded, draped, tied, and left in place for six to twelve months. The resulting marks—caused solely by the relatively greater exposure of some areas of the material over others—create the striking impression of the force that made them: the light of the sun. Meanwhile, the rays and undulations in his works evoke the appearance of beams of light or, at times, reflected light undulating in darkness. It is because we see them as both images and indexes of light that these works acquire their uncanny allure.
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Chris Duncan
STILL (6 Month Exposure) UKIAH 1 , 2021
Sun, time, fabric, thread, paint
20 x 24 inches (50.8 x 61 cm)
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Alternate view: STILL (6 Month Exposure) UKIAH 1, 2021
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Detail: STILL (6 Month Exposure) UKIAH 1, 2021
Delving deeper into the appearance of these images, while they are the result of exposure to the sun over a prolonged period from a single location, each work possesses a distinct feeling of movement. There is a sense that a dynamic activity has been frozen like a “film still” to use the artist’s words. This appearance of movement, besides resembling beams of sunlight, also suggests, at times, light reflecting off of moving liquid or some other kind of viscous material such as smoke. The sensation of turbulence in these works is present not only in the “sun exposures” themselves but also in the irregularity of the rectilinear fabric pieces and the variable coloration of the thin painted “frames.” All of these elements combine to endow the works with a slightly off kilter feeling. To return to Lucretius, we can analogize this sensation with what the Roman philosopher called the “swerve.” Lucretius arrived at this concept not through direct observation but through deduction. He postulated that for there to be manifest physical existence, the most elemental particles of matter, i.e. atoms, must be subject to a force that causes them to slightly swerve in the course of their motion, thereby setting up a disturbance that, when played out over time and space, results in the peculiar patterns and aggregations that ultimately become what we recognize as physical form. Long thought to be a weak point in Lucretius’ theories, his concept of the “swerve” has recently come back into favor, especially in the field of fluid dynamics.
The title of Lucretius’ only surviving text, “On the Nature of Things,’ could apply as well to Duncan’s art. In these diminutive works, he presents evidence of some of the fundamental processes and principles of existence. And, much as Lucretius’ expressed his pioneering discoveries through the lyrical medium of poetry, Duncan expresses his meditations on being through the sensuous medium of visual art. The synthesis of intellect and sensuality is a core feature of Epicureanism, the Greek philosophy to which Lucretius ascribed. Often misunderstood as a form of hedonism, Epicureanism acknowledged the limits of mortality, recognized the oneness of things, aimed to achieve peace through the elimination of fear, and embraced pleasure as the ultimate purpose of life. Like Epicurean yantras, Duncan’s “sun exposures” provide a point of focus, a visual foundation, for meditations on the nature of things.
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Titus Lucretius Carus, The Way Things Are, trans. Rolfe Humphries (Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1968) p. 120.
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Chris Duncan
STILL (6 Month Exposure) ASBURY PARK 1 , 2021
Sun, time, fabric, thread, paint
20 x 24 inches (50.8 x 61 cm)
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Alternate view: STILL (6 Month Exposure) ASBURY PARK 1 , 2021
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Detail: STILL (6 Month Exposure) ASBURY PARK 1 , 2021
DIONNE LEE on CHRIS DUNCAN
I’ve been looking out my windows a lot lately. While this is certainly a result of spending most of the last year indoors, I’ve always enjoyed peering through them and thinking about direction, line of sight, and sitting with how far my eyes will allow me to see. Experiencing seasonal shifts from inside has allowed my attention to drift towards the subtle changes of my immediate ecosystem: where the light falls in my apartment, the way my plants bend to follow this light, and even my cats changing their resting spots throughout the year for sunbathing. I was reminded of these observations when I visited Chris Duncan’s studio a few weeks ago and viewed a different set of windows, made from fabric and light, that offered a new understanding of how the sun travels through space and time. In my apartment these shifts in light are fleeting–no trace left behind. Duncan’s work is all of the traces folded into each other. The changing of tones come from fabric folded over by the artist or flipped by a gust of wind, maybe falling over again from another gust months later.
I live in Oakland, California, and have visited Pacifica and Ukiah, where some of these fabrics have been exposed, but I’ve never been to Asbury Park, New Jersey. Duncan’s work offers a view of a place I have yet to meet and a new perspective on those that may already feel familiar. A wave coming towards the Atlantic shore becomes a wisp of light blue against a backdrop of cerulean, capturing what is in a constant state of flow, and allowing natural occurrences to tell the story of place.
From spring to summer, I am fighting with the sun. My apartment gets too hot too fast, the edges of my plants brown, and so sometimes the curtains need to be drawn. For some reason this inconsequential gesture makes me feel guilty, like I am rejecting a gift. I also feel a minor sadness as I watch my thin curtains slowly fade through the seasons and consider what is lost when I interrupt the invisible hand of light and time. Duncan’s hand is present through the tugging of seams, an attempt to make sense of where the light may have begun to fade or reveal the vulnerabilities of a living document. To preserve this work means to keep it out of the sun, yet the necessity of preservation is a question worth grappling with as the work’s power lies in its ability to record an infinite amount of passing time; a reminder for why it is sometimes necessary to leave the curtain open.
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Chris Duncan
STILL (6 Month Exposure) PACIFICA 2, 2021
Sun, time, fabric, thread, paint
20 x 24 inches (50.8 x 61 cm)
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Alternate view: STILL (6 Month Exposure) PACIFICA 2, 2021
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Detail: STILL (6 Month Exposure) PACIFICA 2, 2021
ERNESTO BURGOS on CHRIS DUNCAN
Are words like ‘success’ or ‘failure’ valid when speaking of the results nature can create? If one surrenders any outcome to a force or control beyond their own imposition then how can the idea of failure exist? Failure through whose eyes? For what means?
These are some of the questions that come to mind when thinking about Chris’ work. Through chance and now with some direction he exposes fabrics to elements of sunlight, air and rain that create registers of time on the material, creating a type of imagery and mark which references the architectural sites where they have been made to inhabit.
It is a never-ending dance when an artist tries to attain the ‘mistake’ or surprise that they have haphazardly experienced. We want to give direction to things to attain an experience proportional to the one we never knew we wanted. This constant search becomes the barometer of success. What happens to those registers if they are not able to produce such an experience? Are we allowing nature to follow its own course or are we asking nature to follow ours? What is the intersection or the relationship between the naturally occurring and man’s intervention?
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Chris Duncan
STILL (6 Month Exposure) OAKLAND, 2021
Sun, time, fabric, thread, paint
20 x 24 inches (50.8 x 61 cm)
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Alternate view: STILL (6 Month Exposure) OAKLAND, 2021
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Detail: STILL (6 Month Exposure) OAKLAND, 2021
One of the interesting twists in Chris’ work is what he decides to do with those registries that don’t seem to suit his initial needs. After letting nature and fabric envelop an architectural setting (which I see as liquid over solid) he seems to invert certain roles. He now begins to add a new sense of reframing and internal architecture to that which had organically overcame the external architecture by sewing and painting over the fabric and its registries. Now does the fabric become the architecture and the artist taking on the role of the elements as he imposes and exposes his own natural processes and elements onto this newly emerged architecture?
Do we as artists start to assume the roles of the natural? Do we believe that our hand or eye can elevate nothing into something the same way the sun does when it leaves its mark on a discarded fabric?
This can be a very slippery path to be on but it’s the one we are already on. Another reason to insert ourselves. To reevaluate what was meaningful in a moment we didn’t seek out and build off of it. What other choice is there?
Chris has positioned himself right in the middle of these intersecting materials, ideas and elements.
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Chris Duncan
STILL (6 Month Exposure) UKIAH 2 , 2021
Sun, time, fabric, thread, paint
20 x 24 inches (50.8 x 61 cm)
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Alternate view: STILL (6 Month Exposure) UKIAH 2 , 2021
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Detail: STILL (6 Month Exposure) UKIAH 2 , 2021
Imposition and submission.
He has chosen to allow himself to be pulled back and forth between these two extremes. Somewhere amidst this space of ideas and questioning he is looking for the right conditions which will allow for him to be aware enough and acute enough to step up or down to respond to the needs of his role in that particular moment. No combination is ever quite the same. From time to times these ideas and materials are able to join in marriage, and many times they reject and divorce each other.
We all do.
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Chris Duncan
STILL (6 Month Exposure) ASBURY PARK 2, 2021
Sun, time, fabric, thread, paint
20 x 24 inches (50.8 x 61 cm)
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Alternate view: STILL (6 Month Exposure) ASBURY PARK 2, 2021
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Detail: STILL (6 Month Exposure) ASBURY PARK 2, 2021
Robert Aiki Aubrey Lowe on Chris Duncan’s STILL
Throughout the whole of 2020 into 2021 we have learned to pivot into a new way of living and thinking. We have on a whole become more accustomed to ideas of isolation, quiet and stillness. Christopher Robin Duncan through his multidisciplinary practice over some years now has been investigating similar notions of patience and calm through the process of slow manipulation of objects, whether tangible or ephemeral, over durations of time.
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Chris Duncan
STILL/TIME CAPSULE, 2021
Sun, time, fabric, paint, wood, vinyl record, publication
17.5 x 14 x 2.5 inches (44.5 x 35.6 x 6.4 cm
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Alternate view: STILL/TIME CAPSULE, 2021, container, record
Christopher’s work with glacial sound vibrations, plays with the textures and nuance of tuning forks, harmonica and feedback in the long form which echoes his work with textiles, which very much relies on the light of the sun as paintbrush and collaborator. This cultivation of technique leads to the new.
For his exhibition STILL, these new works present the abundance of slow craft.
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Alternate view: STILL/TIME CAPSULE, 2021, artist book pages
A collection of his first sound recording effort complete with Long Play record and handmade book housed in a sculptural box made in an edition of 6 encapsulates contemplation of working with and absorption of light. The ocean sized sound of the recording relates to the power of the light and endlessness of time.
In past works he has focused on specific recognizable objects in his photographic draping process, but a set of seven new works highlight the failure to capture attempted objects, therefore displaying the absence of form, but in doing so, create new consideration of forms in a landscape.
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Alternate view: STILL/TIME CAPSULE, 2021, container, record, artist book
STILL is a lovely, thoughtful continuation of such processes relying on sunlight, sound, thread, paint and a calendar year to produce truly stunning pastoral works for Halsey McKay gallery. STILL provides the space we need.
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Alternate view: STILL/TIME CAPSULE, 2021