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What:
Works by Joyce Gralak and Dawn Kunkel

Where:
Tennessee Valley Unitarian Universalist Church, 2931 Kingston Pike (call 523-4176 for information)

When:
Through April, with an artists’ reception March 12, 6-9 p.m.

Two established local artists combine forces

by Heather Joyner Spica

Throughout the past few years, I have seen art by Joyce Gralak and Dawn Kunkel exhibited in numerous Knoxville venues. I have even seen their mixed media work in some of the same places, but paired as it is now in a show at the Unitarian church, it’s especially striking—in part because aspects of it are simultaneously so very similar and so very dissimilar. Harmony and contrast herein come together, and viewers should find the combination exciting.

It’s a given that the two currently featured artists are accomplished and devoted to their respective paths; what’s maybe not so apparent is the spirit their various works share. At first glance, Gralak’s art is delicate and quiet. Her use of found objects and layered candle wax in 13 small-scale pieces is generally subtle, whereas Kunkel’s colors and collage elements feel assertive—if not downright brash—in almost as many displayed pieces. But aside from the beads, bits of jewelry printed text and ephemera, buttons, and shells found in both individuals’ work, there are other connections. Each artist revels in detail, and each possesses a fine-tuned appreciation for what individual or grouped items can suggest—either visually or symbolically, or both.

Gralak’s visual language is particularly refined. Ever-present wax partially obscures objects, lending them a dreamlike quality. They seem preserved, suspended in time. In addition to the encaustic medium she employs, Gralak repeatedly draws from a carefully selected repertoire of elements such as animal and plant cutouts, dated women’s dress illustrations, and miniature representations of body parts. Reappearing as they do, there’s no denying their role as icons related to feminine identity.

In “Two Houses,” Gralak carves a central picture window of sorts into wax, framing a tiny picture of identical houses beneath a metal key. Looking like a heavy chunk of white marble, the wax “container” is oppressive, overwhelming more fragile items like a small wire hanger (for doll clothing?), a trio of thorns, a scratchy drawing of a swirling drain, and a magnolia blossom applique. “Two Houses” implies that even the rosiest domesticity can be injurious.

Unfortunately, Gralak’s overall subtlety seems to be reigning her in. One gets the impression that a submersion of objects and an occasionally slipshod approach to construction is her attempt to downplay otherwise too-blatant subject matter. But we get the whispered messages anyway. She might as well let loose a bit with color, and it would be interesting to see how her work could translate into larger-scale pieces. With its luxuriant dinner mint green and other verdant hues, Gralak’s diptych titled “Repeat” hints at her potential as a colorist. It’s a direction I’d like to see her pursue. After all, Gralak has much to say via many interesting means.

On the other hand, Kunkel’s self-restraint is altogether different.

Predictable maneuvers presumably serving to anchor specific pieces are instead just that: predictable. Like Gralak, Kunkel appears to be trying to tone herself down.

In her impressive seven-part “Continuum,” Kunkel presents squares of masonite featuring an iris increasing in size from left to right with all the exuberance of engorging genitalia. It’s an energetic and colorful sequence. The changing number of strips of diaphanous fabric dangling like stamen from each panel—decreasing in number as the flower grows larger—is a clever touch, but what exactly does Kunkel’s measured approach achieve? Gold beaded wire straps each image in, no matter how big the blossom, and bit by bit words spell out the phrase “Never ever would I’ve imagined that I’d wind up here.” The thing is, “here” is exactly where Kunkel knew she’d end up, if her methods are any indication. The poetry becomes a lie, no matter what its intentions.

Imposed order in Kunkel’s “Tantra” works well, however. “Tantra”’s dominant image—Indian erotica showing a fornicating couple—superimposed on a stylized flame in the middle of a maze can bear such precise handling. Flower emblems, words, and (yes!) Hershey’s kisses like brown nipples meandering toward the center are rhythmic rather than rigid in their arrangement. Matchsticks combined with images of fire and sexual union are playful rather than predictable, and together, the elements are as mesmerizing as a mandala. The use of words is also more effective. In part, they read, “and I wonder if I even should follow you but it seems the easiest thing to do...I still find myself wandering around in another kind of mess...the kind of mess I was trying to get out of to begin with.” “Tantra” thus exemplifies wandering extraordinaire.

Both Gralak and Kunkel present other pieces worthy of mention; suffice it to say that whatever its deficiencies, the TVUUC show has a lot to offer. Kunkel’s silhouetted female figure cut-outs encrusted with all sorts of things (such as locks, shards of glass, rope, pebbles, shells, etc.), her sophisticated piano-hinged diptych titled “Alter ego,” and her quartet of copper “wreaths” represent more obvious experimentation than do unmentioned works by Gralak. Nevertheless, both artists celebrate what painter Julian Schnabel has called “the alchemic and accumulative power of objects.” And each artist does so in very memorable ways.