Andrea Carlson’s interest in landscapes was sparked by a painting her parents displayed in her childhood bedroom. Despite considering it cheesy and syrupy, the painting’s atmosphere captivated her, leading her into a meditative state as she fell asleep imagining herself in the unreal valley it depicted. Her fascination with the hypnotism of such kitschy thrift store art stems from the painting’s intimation of something ineffable just beyond view.
We were seated in a lounge at the Museum of Contemporary Art (MCA) Chicago, where Carlson’s exhibition, „Shimmer on Horizons,“ is currently on display. The show features four paintings, a video installation, and a sculpture that are visually overwhelming and conceptually dense. Carlson’s works, expansive panoramas made up of individual paper panels, span up to 15 feet across the wall, incorporating familiar topographical elements like mountains and lakes with a metaphysical richness that ignites the imagination.
A departure from the 19th-century American landscape art tradition, Carlson’s works challenge the idyllic and propagandistic views of land as portrayed by artists like Albert Bierstadt and Thomas Cole. As an Ojibwe artist, Carlson’s art reflects her ancestral heritage and the idea of the earth defending itself against interlopers, resonating with themes of colonization and exploitation.
Carlson’s art serves as decolonized territories in opposition to the institutions that exhibit them, highlighting the need for representation and accountability in the art world. Her work has gained recognition in various exhibitions, including the Prospect New Orleans triennial and a major survey at the Denver Art Museum, showcasing her unique perspective on landscapes and cultural narratives.
Despite the gravity of her themes, Carlson infuses her art with humor and juxtapositions that provoke thought and reflection. Her „VORE“ series, which references cannibalism in exploitation films, challenges colonial narratives and explores cultural mash-ups in a visually striking and thought-provoking manner. The image has an overripe quality, with a self-conscious baroqueness that blurs the line between humor and horror.
“The landscapes we all walk are full of irony if you look close enough,” Carlson said. For example, her favorite paper brand, Arches, is marked with the year 1492, the year the company was founded. “What took all the land away?” Carlson asked. “Paper! It’s all abstracted on paper. It’s just how everything is carved up.”
Paper represents bureaucratic dealings like deeds and treaties but also highlights its own perishability. The dim lighting in Carlson’s MCA exhibit is meant to preserve the art, and institutions limit her works on paper loans to three months to prevent damage.
Carlson’s „memory work“ involves incorporating names of lost loved ones, ancestors, and influential artists into her art. She sees this as a form of memorialization that the museum will care for, at least until a natural disaster like a lava flow destroys it.
When asked about her indifference towards the preservation of her art, Carlson stated that future generations will create their own works and don’t need hers. She views the loss of her art as insignificant.
Carlson’s private life is revealed through her „memory work,“ as she avoids discussing personal details. Born in Nebraska and raised in Minnesota, she has dedicated her life to making art, despite a brief dismissal from Walmart. She recently moved back to Minnesota and converted her grandmother’s house garage into a studio.
Horizons in Carlson’s work symbolize the vastness of the Midwest, where she resides. To her, these transitional spaces represent the origin of poetry and music.
In her artwork, Carlson creates disorienting landscapes that overwhelm the viewer. She aims to challenge traditional interpretations and avoid providing clear meanings, preferring a more open-ended approach.
Carlson’s refusal to offer obvious points of entry into her images is a deliberate aesthetic choice. Her works provoke initial disorientation and challenge viewers to engage with them in a deeper, more contemplative way.
Sie sind Fenster auf Landschaften, die seismisch und heimgesucht sind, zugleich tumultartig und statisch, zu Prismen gebogen, aber flach deklarativ.
Carlson wird manchmal mit Künstlern gruppiert, die mit Indigenous Futurisms verbunden sind, einem Begriff, den die Anishinaabe-Gelehrte Grace Dillon 2003 geprägt hat, um Künstler zu bezeichnen, deren Werk eine indigene Perspektive auf die Zukunft bietet. Inspiriert von Technologie und Science-Fiction kreieren Künstler wie Cannupa Hanska Luger, Star WallowingBull und Skawennati alternative Kosmologien, in denen indigene Völker nie kolonisiert wurden. Carlsons Arbeit ist diesem Bewegung nahe, aber auch entschieden introspektiv und explizit in der Geschichte verstrickt. Sie hat kürzlich begonnen, über „tiefste Zeit“ nachzudenken, wie sie sich in Objekten wie versteinerten Trilobiten manifestiert. Das Konzept der Erde als Archivar durchdringt die Arbeit, die sie jetzt macht.
„Bilder überleben uns“, sagte Carlson. „Manchmal gehen sie an uns vorbei. Sie werden auch zerstört.“ Über den Zustand solcher Dinge fügte sie hinzu: „Es ist sehr verwundbar, wie es sein sollte.“ Als Beispiel nannte sie die Zeichnung eines Pferdes ihrer Vorfahren – ein Relikt aus einer anderen Zeit, das jetzt auf Papier für das, was heutzutage als Ewigkeit gilt, erhalten ist. „Wir können nicht unbedingt die Gewinner und Verlierer auswählen“, sagte Carlson. „Wer entscheidet, wer zu einem Fossil wird?“
Sie hielt einen Moment inne, dann lächelte sie. „Aber wäre es nicht cool, ein Fossil zu sein? Es könnte jedem von uns passieren.“