{"id":67166,"date":"2023-03-14T19:37:45","date_gmt":"2023-03-15T01:37:45","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/?p=67166"},"modified":"2023-03-17T11:00:00","modified_gmt":"2023-03-17T17:00:00","slug":"nature-loud-and-clear-in-caro-nilssons-a-way-of-seeing-in-the-anthropocene","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/nature-loud-and-clear-in-caro-nilssons-a-way-of-seeing-in-the-anthropocene\/","title":{"rendered":"Nature Loud and Clear in Caro Nilsson\u2019s “A Way of Seeing in the Anthropocene”"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Caro Nilsson, “Red Castle,” 2021, oil and gouache on canvas, 36 x 30 in.<\/p><\/div>\n

Several decades ago the words \u201cA stone, a leaf, an unfound door\u201d opened Thomas Wolfe’s novel Look Homeward, Angel<\/i> , suggesting that a rock and a leaf had as much importance as a door \u2014 or that a secret and invaluable door or truth could only be found,\u00a0 <\/span>reached, via the guardianship of nature. Caro Nilsson\u2019s<\/a> paintings, now at the Main Gallery of Salt Lake\u2019s public library, join this quiet quest: she calls her landscape paintings (most of them acrylic and gouache, sometimes with embroidery thread added, on canvas) \u201cslow wanderings.\u201d<\/h4>\n

\u201cThe Red Castle,\u201d one of her largest paintings in this show, showcases an enormous and long-existing rock formation, with a dropped-in-an-aquarium-for-a-backdrop kind of beauty. Blue water below it, and almost equally-brilliant blue sky above it, frame the kind of mountain or rock formation which draws people to Utah and the southwest, and keeps them there: its reds charged and passionate, its discovery long ago surely some traveler\u2019s gambler\u2019s luck.<\/h4>\n

\u201cCounsel,\u201d a triptych of paintings, asks the viewer to take the temperature of their emotions as they study three boulders: one, with many tree-shadows; another, with fewer tree-shadows; and, last, a boulder with no shadows at all \u2014 just sitting lonely, plain, heavy and brilliant in the sun.\u00a0<\/span><\/h4>\n
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Caro Nilsson, “Trees of 500 East (study),” 2023, gouache, watercolor, colored pencil, graphite on paper<\/p><\/div>\n

Nilsson, who has degrees from the University of Virginia in both art and architecture, and thus would be keenly aware of arguments between things in the landscape natural and non-natural, also paints city trees which have suffered, cut short by power companies to allow electrical power lines to stretch uninterrupted. These paintings \u2014 \u201cTo Witness a Slow Waltz (500 East)\u201d and \u201cTrees of 500 East\u201d are her most powerful paintings here. Each tree\u2019s natural candelabra-shape is subverted by hasty surgeries: branches emerge like sideways-candelabras at sides of all the trees \u2014 their growth become grotesque, but unstopped. They look a little like the long-suffering gnarled, short olive or trees in summer Provence in Van Gogh\u2019s paintings, his trees which looked to be in both pain and old age, hunched over, sprawling, like people with canes. Or, these trees of Nilsson\u2019s look to be suffering as almost all fruit trees do, their over-burden of heavy fruit-bearing sapping most of their energy and subverting their natural grace and beauty. But these trees are not heavy fruit-bearers: they have become, cruelly and accidentally, hunchbacks. Overhead, in Nilsson\u2019s paintings, electrical lines (the reason for their truncations) soar on in beautiful triplicate-line measured arcs, undisturbed.<\/h4>\n
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Caro Nilsson, “Errands Before an Audience (2700 South),” 2023, acrylic, gouache, embroidery thread on canvas<\/p><\/div>\n

Nilsson\u2019s tree-love continues in \u201cErrands Before an Audience\u201d: you quickly guess that the painter, in her car, while running errands, enjoys the guardian trees lining her road; she feels they are keeping her company, even somehow enjoy her passing by them. Every one of the trees on the car\u2019s right, in the painting, is gently turning toward the car, the driver; their boughs and tips look, as tree branches always do, like graceful arms and hands, even almost applauding the driver, silently thanking her for passing their way. Yet, trees on the left of the road, in the painting, turn \u2014 every one of them \u2014 away from the driver and the road: they look like a row of dancers yet to reverse themselves and face the other row of dancers. Lesson: trees may care about us, on some level, or we hope they do: but no human is ever to be completely their dance-master.<\/h4>\n

Two curiosities: in Caro Nilsson\u2019s triptych titled \u201cThreshold,\u201d the sun, in one of the paintings, is a bald, plain white, slightly whittled-looking, a little like a partly-sculpted rock, as if it were wishing it were a planet, without all the sun\u2019s unending duties. And, in \u201cCottonwood Curve,\u201d Nilsson\u2019s mountain-tops are as fluorescently-colored by the sun (hot flamingo-pink) as the asphalt street is fluorescently-painted (brilliant yellow painted-on road-stripes). Whatever we do, however intently and chemically we do it, says this painting by Nilsson, we never can outdo our sun\u2019s fire-blaze, its fervent sunsets; we\u2019re loud, but nature is stronger, louder.<\/h4>\n
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Caro Nilsson, “Cottonwood Curve,” 2021, oil and gouache on canvas, 24 x 36 in.<\/p><\/div>\n

Caro Nilsson: A Way of Seeing in the Anthropocene<\/em>,\u00a0Gallery at Library Square<\/a>, Salt Lake City Library (4th floor), Salt Lake City, through Apr. 21<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Several decades ago the words \u201cA stone, a leaf, an unfound door\u201d opened Thomas Wolfe’s novel Look Homeward, Angel , suggesting that a rock and a leaf had as much importance as a door \u2014 or that a secret and invaluable door or truth could only be found,\u00a0 […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1568,"featured_media":67169,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[19,14],"tags":[4254],"class_list":["post-67166","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-exhibition_reviews","category-visual_arts","tag-caro-nilsson"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-content\/uploads\/2023\/03\/Cottonwood-Curve-by-Nilsson-2.jpeg","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"publishpress_future_action":{"enabled":false,"date":"2026-04-24 10:38:33","action":"change-status","newStatus":"draft","terms":[],"taxonomy":"category","extraData":[]},"publishpress_future_workflow_manual_trigger":{"enabledWorkflows":[]},"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/67166","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1568"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=67166"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/67166\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":67240,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/67166\/revisions\/67240"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/67169"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=67166"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=67166"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/artistsofutah.org\/15Bytes\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=67166"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}