I recently visited Los Angeles born-and-raised painter Kate Mosher Hall at her light-filled studio in a bricky industrial area of Glendale. With the 5 freeway buzzing nearby, she walked me through her complex and unique process, which involves silkscreening light-sensitive emulsion over gessoed canvas using anywhere from eight to thirty screens depending on the particular painting, Photoshopping, layers of collage, and paint. It’s a “choose-your-own adventure” as she says, to get the desired effect. To help organize things, she’s created a lexicon: box paintings, hole or mesh paintings, recursion paintings. Some paintings incorporate elements of all styles. Hall, a punk drummer, worked in silkscreen studios for several years before she began UCLA’s Fine Art MFA program. We talked about Never Odd or Even, Hall’s second solo exhibition at Hannah Hoffman, which is currently on view in Los Angeles and the way that the work employs both good and bad math, challenges modes of looking, and the infinite repetition within binary relationships. Read more.
Kate Mosher Hall's Without a body, without Bill @ Hannah Hoffman Gallery In Los Angeles
The look is the strangest lie God gifted us. Pointed gawks back and forth, stuck in stare, with lovers, unknowable animals and the rest of the world’s stuff. The (modern) animal is said to be locked in an interminable cycle of disappearance. Phantasmal creatures that slip in and out of view, only illuminated as symbols and pictures. To know them is to see them. To see them is to try on a battered old human conceit: the animal was the first metaphor. It’s dreadful, a thing that should never have been possible, for sight to possess such procedural power. And yet, here we are, like moths to a bulb in the twilight of our go, amid a scene that holds an audience and a stage, a spotlight and the darkness that surrounds it. In solidarity—together, beside, a cabaret of sights unseen.
- Nicole-Antonia Spagnola
Without a body, without Bill is on view through April 10 @ Hannah Hoffman 2504 W 7th Street, 2nd Floor, Los Angeles