The floor at Hotcakes Gallery is strewn with some four
dozen paintings when I stop in a day prior to the August
5 opening of Micaela O’Herlihy’s “Falling People.” The
31-year-old artist and Mike Brenner, Hotcakes’
curator/owner, are intent on figuring out what to leave in
and what to take out. The prickly matter of pricing
surfaces during their conversation. Who am I to say that
“art shouldn’t be sold by the inch.”
Her paintings are creepy in the way the Old Testament is
creepy: blasted landscapes, apocalyptic happenings,
and dollops of death and destruction. Those seeking art
to hang over their dilapidated sofas, will find much to
admire…too much perhaps, as the exhibit (at least at
that stage) seemed sorely in need of stringent curatorial
shepherding.
Imagine if you will, badass Robert Mitchum, slithering
through the celluloid swamps of “Cape Fear,” and you’ll
have a grip on “Swamp Mother,” an image conjured by
the painter who dead-centers herself and her young
son, Thurman, in a place so devoid of hope, that one’s
first instinct is to turn and run screaming from the
gallery. If you stand fast and study the 26” x 24” work
(caesin on paper), you’ll find beneath the gloom
anddoom, two cast-adrift souls clinging for dear life to
each other. It’s a key piece in the exhibit, and sets the
tone for an art walk through the Valley of Death,where
untethered images float and fall in a state of high
anxiety. The dead? Well, they’re dead, and seem at
peace.
dozen paintings when I stop in a day prior to the August
5 opening of Micaela O’Herlihy’s “Falling People.” The
31-year-old artist and Mike Brenner, Hotcakes’
curator/owner, are intent on figuring out what to leave in
and what to take out. The prickly matter of pricing
surfaces during their conversation. Who am I to say that
“art shouldn’t be sold by the inch.”
Her paintings are creepy in the way the Old Testament is
creepy: blasted landscapes, apocalyptic happenings,
and dollops of death and destruction. Those seeking art
to hang over their dilapidated sofas, will find much to
admire…too much perhaps, as the exhibit (at least at
that stage) seemed sorely in need of stringent curatorial
shepherding.
Imagine if you will, badass Robert Mitchum, slithering
through the celluloid swamps of “Cape Fear,” and you’ll
have a grip on “Swamp Mother,” an image conjured by
the painter who dead-centers herself and her young
son, Thurman, in a place so devoid of hope, that one’s
first instinct is to turn and run screaming from the
gallery. If you stand fast and study the 26” x 24” work
(caesin on paper), you’ll find beneath the gloom
anddoom, two cast-adrift souls clinging for dear life to
each other. It’s a key piece in the exhibit, and sets the
tone for an art walk through the Valley of Death,where
untethered images float and fall in a state of high
anxiety. The dead? Well, they’re dead, and seem at
peace.
| Micaela O'Herlihy's Bat Boy |
| Micaela O;Herlihy, Swamp Mother |
Along the route, O’Herlihy offers paintings (some on burlap coffee bags), with cartography-like mappings
interwoven with both historical and odd-ball prophets, and are you ready for this… wolves, Neanderthals, and
Native Americans. It’s as if she’s trying to find her way through life’s maze of choices and maybe made some
wrong choices en route. “Please Don’t Think Any Less of Me,” portrays the artist, looking cartoonish in a punk
sort of way, shooting herself in the foot.
Blame it on her Irish roots. She comes from a long line of old sod creatives, including her grandfather, Dan O’
Herlihy, who reached his cinematic peak in the 40’s and 50’s, and fell into the Hollywood blacklist because of
his political agenda. He rose from that witch hunt to cap his career (as Andrew Packard) in the cult television
series, “Twin Peaks.” In his final, dementia-ridden years, Micaela was at his side. She recalls his death as
“devastating.”
This artist is still young enough to risk uneven craftsmanship, but the content of her work is evenly weird, and
weirdness holds it own peculiar charm. Chances are she likely has years of art-making ahead of her (plus she
earned a 2003 MFA in Film Production from UW-Milwaukee). There’s time enough for her to make sense out of
life’s chaos, and she doesn’t lack for emotional clout. So what’s her hurry? Death comes knocking eventually,
whether we sit stone still in a Barcalounger, or rush ahead to produce too much too soon. The best piece in the
show is hanging in Hotcakes’ wee john. “Lost Snorkeler,” is small (12” x 10”) and unassuming. A lone figure
floats forward in a watery world. Of all the paintings, this is the most resolved, the most unhurried. Why on God’s
green earth is it hanging in the john!
To quote a line or two from Irish poet, William Butler Yeats, whose words she first heard at age 11, from the lips
of her grandfather when the two toured Ireland:
and I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow
(“The Lake Isle Of Innisfree”)
- Judith Ann Moriarty
Judith Ann Moriarty is a Milwaukee free-lance writer and artist.
Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
interwoven with both historical and odd-ball prophets, and are you ready for this… wolves, Neanderthals, and
Native Americans. It’s as if she’s trying to find her way through life’s maze of choices and maybe made some
wrong choices en route. “Please Don’t Think Any Less of Me,” portrays the artist, looking cartoonish in a punk
sort of way, shooting herself in the foot.
Blame it on her Irish roots. She comes from a long line of old sod creatives, including her grandfather, Dan O’
Herlihy, who reached his cinematic peak in the 40’s and 50’s, and fell into the Hollywood blacklist because of
his political agenda. He rose from that witch hunt to cap his career (as Andrew Packard) in the cult television
series, “Twin Peaks.” In his final, dementia-ridden years, Micaela was at his side. She recalls his death as
“devastating.”
This artist is still young enough to risk uneven craftsmanship, but the content of her work is evenly weird, and
weirdness holds it own peculiar charm. Chances are she likely has years of art-making ahead of her (plus she
earned a 2003 MFA in Film Production from UW-Milwaukee). There’s time enough for her to make sense out of
life’s chaos, and she doesn’t lack for emotional clout. So what’s her hurry? Death comes knocking eventually,
whether we sit stone still in a Barcalounger, or rush ahead to produce too much too soon. The best piece in the
show is hanging in Hotcakes’ wee john. “Lost Snorkeler,” is small (12” x 10”) and unassuming. A lone figure
floats forward in a watery world. Of all the paintings, this is the most resolved, the most unhurried. Why on God’s
green earth is it hanging in the john!
To quote a line or two from Irish poet, William Butler Yeats, whose words she first heard at age 11, from the lips
of her grandfather when the two toured Ireland:
and I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow
(“The Lake Isle Of Innisfree”)
- Judith Ann Moriarty
Judith Ann Moriarty is a Milwaukee free-lance writer and artist.
Email comments@susceptibletoimages.com
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| Falling People: Micaela O’Herlihy Hotcakes Gallery 3379 N. Pierce Street, Milwaukee 414-467-7271 Through Ocober 3. |