Works like a Charm

Maybe “southern charm” is a stereotype. But as someone who hails from the east coast, I can attest to its existence. Anyone who makes art in this image saturated world knows that they have about three seconds to catch the viewer’s attention, to “charm” them. These artists, while not all southerners, have me taking a second look.

Beth Edwards’ fat headed characters take you by the arm and escort you jauntily into their supersaturated worlds. With their shiny smiles and sideways glances, they are friendly ambassadors of retro furniture and famous art. Anne Siems, creates worlds of an unknown time and place, strange amalgams of folksy Americana and Dutch Arcadia. Her strange vignettes seem to originate simultaneously from children’s fairy tales, 17th century European painting and your grandmother’s handkerchiefs. Creepy doll heads are propped up on intricate exoskeletons, transparent dresses with no body inside. These are vivid dreams verging on nightmares.

Greely Myatt’s work is steeped in the south. Clumsy words lit up with bare light bulbs could be homemade signs for a dive by the side of the road. And his empty speech bubbles seem to say “shucks.” Jared Small’s houses have voices, some sweet, some gritty, all distinct. Their presence is palpable, even as they dissolve at their edges into brushstrokes, smears and drips. Maysey Craddock’s bony trees and dilapidated structures seem to be metaphors for memory, loss and resilience. She carefully pulls meaning out of these familiar objects, imbuing their brokenness with a delicate grace.

When I had the good fortune of stumbling upon David Lusk Gallery just over a year ago, I noticed the art had a certain quality that was inviting me to linger. Whatever hooked me - beauty, color, humor, poetry – now I know that I was also charmed.

Leslie Holt