Art Review: Happy days! Cartoon-like characters signify emotions in paintings

Beth Edwards' "Summer," an oil on canvas on exhibit at David Lusk Gallery.

“Along the Way,” the title of Beth Edwards’ current exhibition at David Lusk Gallery, implies a sense of stasis, a pause in a journey, as in, “We stopped along the way to see the wishing well.”

And, as a matter of fact, one of her exactingly executed paintings does depict a ramshackle old wishing well. Several of the pieces explicitly offer scenes of travel — a cowboy on horseback, a couple in a Mercedes Benz convertible — while others hint at a hiatus, as in “Summer,” in which a picnic is about to occur, with a sleek turquoise Karmann Ghia parked in the background.

Beth Edwards' "Summer," an oil on canvas on exhibit at David Lusk Gallery.

Beth Edwards' "Into the Evening," on display at David Lusk Gallery.

When one says, describing Edwards’ work, “a cowboy” or “a couple” it has to be understood that these figures are not human but take the form of rubber toys from the 1950s and ’60s, usually in the form of deliriously cheerful cartoon-like animals. Over the past decade, these figures from American popular culture have become a signature of Edwards’ style, yet, as she indicated in a recent interview, she may be transitioning away from this motif.

“They’re characters,” said Edwards, 49 and an associate professor of painting at the University of Memphis; “emblems for feelings and emotions. They came out of a desire to paint what happiness looked like when I was feeling very unhappy with what was going on in the world, in terms of the war and the environment and so on. Then they became about happiness itself, and now I think I’m more back to the quandary stage.”

Viewers see the quandary or the slight sense of dismay in such a piece as “Winter (Peaceable Kingdom),” in which a simple farm scene — bare fields, red barn — serves as background to a depiction of a hugely grinning pig wearing overalls. From the other side of the two-rail fence, a little yellow cow with short black horns looks at the pig askance, as if to say, “What does he — or we — have to be so cheerful about?”

More ambivalent and layered with ambiguity is “Into the Evening,” a painting that is perhaps the culmination of what Edwards has been working toward thematically. The toy figures sit in the Mercedes, which points away from the viewer. Seen from the back, the figures are impossible to decipher in terms of “species”; most likely they are simply humanoid “animals” in human clothes, including somewhat ludicrously jaunty hats. The pink light of the sunset in the west is reflected on the trunk of the Mercedes, while in the distant east, across the rolling landscape, a bank of clouds darkens as dusk comes on. We see the figures’ faces only in one-quarter profile, so we can’t read their expressions, but their positions in the car, the slight droop of posture, signifies a questioning attitude, a sense of apprehension at the inevitable occurrence of night.

“I’ve been sort of working in the way of optimism but also a sense of voyeurism too,” said Edwards. “Now it’s more, well, not melancholy so much as acceptance and narrative awareness. Not necessarily upbeat but not a big deal, either.”

The immediately perceived aspect of Edwards’ work is the incredibly precise quality of her painting and her mastery of oil paint technique, especially in an age when so many artist use acrylic pigments.

“I think a lot of people use acrylic because of the health concerns with oil paint and because acrylic really is more versatile than it used to be. But the way I paint is so meticulous and tedious. I need a pretty good window to work in, longer than what acrylic can provide, because I have to paint each object two or three times, and there are subtle shifts each time. I need five hours at least at a time to do that.”

One reason why Edwards may be bringing her involvement with nostalgic toy figures to a close is because the authentic examples are rare.

“They’re disappearing from the market,” said the artist. “I get them from eBay, and people find them and give them to me, but they’re increasingly difficult to find. So I’ve been painting without them” — as in the “Meadow” series in this exhibition — “seeing if I can animate the other features.”

Beth Edwards, “Along the Way”, with L. Brent Kington, recent steel and wood sculpture

Through July 2 at David Lusk Gallery, 4540 Poplar Ave. in Laurelwood. Call 767-3800.

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