“The Caretaker’s Dream”

“Anon, to sudden silence won/ In fancy they pursue/ The dream-child moving through a land/ Of wonders wild and new/ In friendly chat with bird or beast/ And half believe it true.”

This verse is lifted from the forward of Alice in Wonderland, but it aptly describes Skyelar Hawkins and Katie Wudel’s exhibition “Chapter Two: The Caretaker’s Dream from The Fairytales of Mistress Goat Delilah,” the second installment in an ongoing series by Hawkins.

The dream-child is Featherman, a fictional farmhand and caretaker to Delilah, the pursuers, Ms. Hawkins and her Rolleicord camera. She follows Featherman through the expansive, faded fields of Nebraska, burning the images of his journey to film before they slip back into the subconscious.

To further illustrate her epic fairytale, Hawkins forged collaboration with writer Katie Wudel. Wudel’s process for this project is as intriguing as her enigmatic text. She collected old books, cutting out and repurposing their words to fashion her own poetic prose.

The entering view of RNG Gallery is itself memorable. Homemade light boxes, constructed by owner Rob Gilmer and Rene Orduna, adorn the walls, backlighting the images and text and filling the space with a soft glow.

The monochrome, light-leaked photos and dated text fonts effectively create an appropriate aged look. Prints of varying size are on X-ray film and Giclée paper, which detracts from creating a cohesive book-spread look, but adds variety.

The polarized shots, double exposures and backlit X-rays create a cool effect, but the images that burned brightest in my memory were the simpler photo prints on paper, such as the striking, well-composed “Carnival Featherman.” Its repetition of circles (dual Ferris wheels and a petroleum tank) catches the eye, yet attention is drawn to Featherman by contrasting his dark clothing and prominent feather mask against an overexposed, bleached sky. The accompanying text is succinct yet descriptive and visceral: “In the sunshine was a fresh pale boy, wild looking in the flare and screaming like a tin whistle.”

“The Featherman Naps” is another remarkable image, his body pushing the edge of the frame, arm extended across the textured grass. The elegiac vignette of the story’s “beast,” a treasured horse, is also captured beautifully.

Like all good fairytales, “The Caretaker’s Dream” balances light and dark elements. Its tone runs from ominous to hopeful, always leaving room for viewers/readers to use their own imaginations and fill in the (literal, as evidenced by page number gaps) spaces in the narrative.

Impermanent Consumption: Urban art makes viewers want, “More, now!”

While not necessarily intended by its creators, street art makes a strong point about impermanence. One day your tag or mural is up, the next day it might be painted over, regardless of its beauty or value.

Jeff King’s art may hang within the protected walls of Pulp, but it still confronts the fact that nothing lasts forever. His street-inspired, graffiti-laden paintings in “Better On My Off Day” are layered with paint, text, and even paper. Nothing was considered so sacred that it couldn’t be painted over. The brush strokes are broad and unrefined, giving the paintings a rough, almost unfinished quality. The work feels alive rather than preserved. Art, like life, is a work in progress.

The thematic undercurrent of non-attachment is taken a step further in “Vapors.” The painting features a garish, cartoon-looking man with purple dollar signs in place of his pupils, exclaiming “More, now!”

Art is open to interpretation, but, to me this work comments on our insatiable consumer appetites and desire for immediate gratification. The inclusion of a smiley face in the speech bubble recalls the computer emoticon, connecting technology to our lack of patience as well as referencing our use of symbols to communicate and express emotions in the digital age.

By taking symbols out of their usual context, like Basquiat and other neo-expressionists before him, we are forced to re-examine their meaning and use.

The copyright symbol on “Old Practice” is accompanied by the word “ownership.” Again, King addresses our impulse to lay claim to things. “All for want of a horseshoe” is scrawled beneath, implying that material wealth, however frivolous, is a motivating force in our society.

I can’t help but wonder if “Old Practice” is self-referential in some way. After all, a number of paintings in the show bear King’s initials (most art contains a signature), and a majority of graffiti is about claiming a spot by tagging one’s moniker.

“Propane Jane” is a visually shocking and colorful depiction of a naked woman on all fours, which stands out even more due to its juxtaposition to the monochrome “This Might Be My Last.”

As a whole, the ten-piece collection makes a strong impression. The bold, black outlines and bright bursts of color (especially the bright pink in “Fugazzi”) initially attract the eye, but the visual information packed onto the canvas leaves you with plenty to digest, visually and intellectually.