Three vastly different solo exhibitions make up the current exhibition at Gabba Gallery.
Vivid and dense color is the keystone of Judy Ostro’s abstract patterned work in Never Too Late. Both mosaic and kaleidoscope, Ostro draws the eye and keeps viewers unbalanced in a sea of alchemic puzzle pieces, such as the radiant almost-blossoms of Summer Time and the ferris-wheel spin of Carnival. Her masterful use of color and line are a mesmerizing mix.
Jack Winthrop’s debut exhibition, “The Wounded Healer” is a much different viewing experience. Scrawled and strangely hypnotic, he offers multiple, roughly figurative images with some bold colorful strokes against a black background in work such as Found and Ugly is Beautiful. Also on view are simple images such as the red chair in Stay Awhile, or the bent spoon and drooping flower against the vivid red background in Miracle. With elements of street art and absurdism Winthrop’s work makes an interesting contrast to Ostro’s patterned precision.
And finally, there is “Child’s Play.” Christina Ramos delivers another standout exhibition of luminous figurative work. Both fable and slice of life, her work is a stunning and seamless blend of the real and surreal. Some images are almost angelic, as with Resurrection, in which a woman lies gracefully in snow, pink balloons attached to her body, as she begins to levitate skyward. Both The Messenger and Little Red Headed Girl are powerful, moving examples of portraiture. The child in each painting is beautifully rendered, impeccably alive and sweet. On the opposite end of the visual spectrum is The Aquarium’s New Attraction, where a woman appears on the verge of being consumed or subsumed by the tentacles of a giant squid. The Butcher’s Daughter combines both thematic elements: a beautiful, tenderly real child stands amid the hanging bodies of slaughtered steer. Ramos has the compelling ability to not only combine realism and surrealism, but to create images of profound beauty, some of which she infuses with a sharp dose of the horrific—rather like life itself. The result is riveting.
Gabba Gallery
3126 Beverly Blvd., Los Angeles
through October 30
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