In 1992, Julia Fish and her husband, sculptor Richard Rezac, settled into a charming two-story brick storefront on Hermitage Street in Chicago. That year marked the beginning of Fish's exploration of her home, originally designed by Theodore Steuben in 1922, starting with the striking hexagonal tiles in the foyer that connect the inside to the outside world. Since then, Fish has elevated the act of observation into a sophisticated practice that intertwines geometry, architecture, the intricate patterns of wood grain, and the musicality of Johann Sebastian Bach's compositions, creating a tapestry of light and sound.
Having closely followed Fish's artistic journey over the years and penned my reflections on her work, I often find myself pondering her intentions. This experience is reminiscent of engaging with the works of Alfred Jensen or diving into Louis Zukofsky's expansive poem A or his homophonic translations of Catullus. One is led on a journey, not necessarily grasping the full narrative, but savoring the profound pleasure of connecting introspective thought with the external act of viewing or reading.
My appreciation for Fish's artistry drew me to her latest exhibition, Transcriptions, Apparitions, hosted at David Nolan Gallery. This showcase features 25 captivating works, including paintings, dye-sublimation prints on metal, unique hand-stamped drawings, gouaches, and ink on paper, as well as thoughtful interventions around the gallery's fireplace and the intricate seams of woodgrain.
Among the standout pieces in the exhibition is "[ score for ] Trio in red yellow blue, with variations for fifty-nine steps/seven flights/three stairways at 5020 South Cornell Avenue" (2006). This piece responds to the new location of Chicago's Hyde Park Art Center, which has been a platform for notable exhibitions since its establishment in 1939, including the iconic Hairy Who? series in the late 1960s.
As I examined this work, which delves into themes of history, memory, and the passage of time, I found myself questioning the connections among these elements. The drawing, crafted with colored pencils and graphite on graph paper, features seven stacks of equally sized horizontal rectangles arranged in three vertical columns, totaling the 59 steps referenced in the title. Each step is framed by a bold primary color. While I sensed an underlying logic in her color selection, it eluded my understanding, yet that was inconsequential. The experience of viewing was both visual and intellectual, igniting a whirlwind of thoughts--particularly the realization that I often regard stairs as mere functional structures, rarely considering their musical potential as a kind of score.
Fish's meticulous and delicate interpretations of light, space, and historical context serve to memorialize the ephemeral nature of time as it flows through the unique architecture of a site. While her works are intertwined with art and artifacts--exhibitions, announcements, guestbooks, and posters--her focus lies not in nostalgia or recreating the past but in illuminating the often-overlooked presence of time.
In "Study for Threshold - Plan : [ las meninas ] [ spectrum : east to west over grey ]" (2018), Fish employs pale gouache across a spectrum of colors on gray paper, linking architectural thresholds to the dresses of Infanta Margaret Theresa and her attendants in Diego Velasquez's Las Meninas (1656). By connecting these architectural elements with Velasquez's masterpiece, Fish prompts us to reflect on our engagement with art and our own temporal journey. Rather than drawing a direct correlation between her artwork and Las Meninas, she encourages contemplation of the broader implications of visual and tactile nuances. Art transcends mere representation; it is a continuous journey through evolving worlds.
While Fish refrains from making sweeping statements about her work, there are moments in the exhibition where a mystical quality seems to emerge. Her ability to perceive the extraordinary within the mundane is unparalleled. Much like Bach, Fish views art as a conduit for recognizing divine presence--those elements that are seen yet often overlooked. She focuses on aspects where light lingers or brushes past, both fleeting and enduring, revealing what many fail to notice. She perceives auras and apparitions.