Michelle Nixon, “A Brief Collection of Humans” watercolor, 12×16 in.

Back in the days when cameras were simple machines and photographers were expected to make all their own decisions, film came with instructions for how to set the exposure, depending on the ambient light. One of the trickiest conditions was known as “Cloudy Bright,” which meant a hazy sky would disperse sunlight evenly, softening shadows without diminishing the overall illumination. A photographer who misjudged the conditions and opened up the lens to compensate for the darkness expected with an overcast sky would overexpose the picture, making everything in it pale or transparent on the way to disappearing altogether in a featureless white fog.

A rare example of what a cloudy bright day actually looks like can be seen, not in a photograph, but in a painting titled “A Brief Collection of Humans.” It’s one of a dozen visual marvels that make up Michelle Nixon’s The Ignorant Perfection of Ordinary People: Humanity Through Layers of Watercolor, showing through November 1 in the Edna Brunswick Taylor Foyer, at the east entrance to Salt Lake Community College’s State Street Campus.

In her “Brief Collection,” Nixon accomplishes several remarkable things. First, she brings out the colorful, sharply-focused profiles of the thirty-some people standing in the street and contrasts them—makes them pop out from—the misty faces and telltale silhouettes of the buildings lining the street behind them. She then makes the crowd so interesting in their mix of types, dress styles, and activities—like walking, looking, talking, playing, and just standing around—that a viewer might not notice at first that they are, in fact, filling a city street that appears devoid of traffic. And finally, she delivers so much light through a hazy white sky that it fills the middle ground while making highlights on the figures in the foreground.

Michelle Nixon, “An Occasion for a Lunch Special,” watercolor, 16×12 in.

Of course Nixon is doing so much more than that in every one of these ten episodes, each from a story known only to her. Notice the way the deep perspective V created by the buildings brings the eye down to the lanky man in the middle, or the way the streetlamp arcs across the void of the sky, recalling its invisible dome. Most outdoor images of Utah are either the built-up world or a familiar landscape. Maybe the way Nixon’s hometown, Logan, forms the gateway to the mountains, forests and lakes that lie beyond it, even as it reveals the pioneers’ ambitions in its architectural contours, explains why she so often shows a forest from the vantage of the street, or reveals a city from a place among the trees.

These are both political and aesthetic statements. Living in the West brings certain advantages: fewer people, less crowding, and a much healthier environment. It also brings the frequent opportunity to live within sight of wilderness, or in nature, with healthier lifestyles part of the bargain. All this is apparent in the details of Nixon’s scenic displays, even as the sorts of pleasures being enjoyed by those who populate them are evident. “An Occasion for a Lunch Special,” the only interior among them, takes place in a restaurant in the middle of a sunny day, when only six people are dining. Two sit, alone and untroubled, at the bar, while the waitress gives her full attention to a couple looking at their menus. At the center of the floodlit scene, a couple at a distant window table lean together and observe the title occasion, not shared with us, but which we can appreciate.

The foreground, lower third of “Stillness in Transit” is an empty, rain-slick street, while the view downhill in the middle distance makes a tight mass of all the traffic, leaving the upper third empty again. Close observation reveals that all the visible traffic lights on the right are red, while it becomes apparent that those on the left, which have their backs to the viewer, must also be red. This is that pregnant moment when a busy street in a commercial district is poised, motionless, before the lights change and the scene roars to live.

Michelle Nixon, “Stillness in Transit,” watercolor, 12×16 in.

Nixon accepts rainy days as a painter and visual poet’s gifts. Watercolors are well known not only for vivid colors, but for aqueous effects like washes and puddles. Where many painters use these qualities to represent visual impressions of other things, Nixon often uses them to convey the actual look of water, whether in the sky or on the ground. The same discipline allows her to catalog within a given scene the attributes of life as it’s actually lived. “The Spaces Between Two” places the viewer in an urban park, its locale revealed by low fences that separate planted areas from walkways. That no plants are visible and there are few leaves on the trees indicate it’s likely winter, when bulky clothing and the cold simultaneously isolate and create a desire to come together. Nixon explores these contrasting urges in about ten couples, each displaying a particular spatial option. In the distance, pairs stand or walk shoulder-to-shoulder. At least on person leans towards his companion, whose ramrod posture declines to retreat. Pedestrians also create traffic, and as they come closer, two couples merge progressively, first coming close and then becoming one body with two heads. Finally, in the foreground stand two women who, while they have the greatest space between them, clearly represent a uniquely human staple: the universe of two. Transplant their image anywhere else and they would still telegraph the same connection.

In a sense, those two also represent what this artist has achieved. Like their private conversation, art can appear to forbid entry. Yet what’s happening for them is that their potent connection is removing them from the noise and confusion wherein they live their lives, providing instead a quiet place where it all makes sense to them. In the same way, Michelle Nixon’s views of lives that we can recognize as ours have actually been adjusted by her to produce a similar feeling of ease, peace, and well-being. In a time that often seems hopelessly chaotic, we seek a feeling of belonging. This is what art can provide to those who have the attention to spare and take time to connect with it. Gaze on one of these masterworks and it will open to you before your eyes. In a moment, there will come an opening in the conversation, and it will be possible to join in.

Michelle Nixon, “The Spaces Between Two,” watercolor, 12×16 in.

The Ignorant Perfection of Ordinary People: Humanity Through Layers of Watercolor, LED Exhibition Wall in the Edna Runswick Taylor Foyer, Salt Lake Community College: South City Campus, Salt Lake City, through Nov. 1

Geoff Wichert

Geoff Wichert objects to the term critic. He would rather be thought of as a advocate on behalf of those he writes about.