THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, September 10, 1995 TAG: 9509080066
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E9 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: TERESA ANNAS
LENGTH: Long : 105 lines
AS A KID growing up in Richmond, artist Ken Wright raised pigeons. All kinds of pigeons. Homing pigeons. Tumblers.
The tumblers were his favorite. Instead of flying along like other birds, ``they are actually falling in the sky,'' Wright said, making a somersault motion with his hands.
The reason Wright raised pigeons, from age 7 through high school, bears some relationship to the artwork that surrounded him in The Arts Center of the Portsmouth Museums, where an exhibit showcasing his new direction went on view Friday.
Standing in the midst of 40 pieces he created in the last year, Wright said of his love of birds: ``Maybe it's the flight. Being free. Up there flying in the wind.''
His face lit up at such thoughts. Then he glanced around the enormous open gallery with the hyperglossy black tile floor. A ``v'' shape, like wings, could be seen in many of the works.
He shook his head as he saw this. ``Must be some deep-rooted thing that has to get out.''
Wright's work has always had an airborne quality. Since 1973, when he began exhibiting at the outdoor shows in the region, he cut his earlier ties to content and realism and let fly his abstract tendencies.
In the 1960s, he had studied with the late Norfolk artist A.B. Jackson, a well-known representational painter, at Norfolk State University, where he earned an undergraduate degree in fine arts. While he respected Jackson's talents in describing a figure and placing it in an environment, he was fascinated by the solid abstract composition that underlay his work.
Few locally were making ``abstracts.'' This gave Wright an instant identity - and a lot of hard questions to answer.
``What is this supposed to be?''
``My kid can do that.''
``You studied in school, and you paint like that?''
Dealing with such criticism, Wright developed a hard shell.
He cultivated an attitude: ``If you don't appreciate it, you are lacking in your art education.''
He tried to find ways to help people understand. Now, when people sincerely ask, ``What is it supposed to be?'', he has a kind of answer.
``I relate it to a picture, or a photograph that is realistic. It might be a photograph on the sports page, where there's a lot of action going on. And I take that photograph and fold it in half, and I show it to them.
``What do you see?''
People will say they see an arm, or a leg, somebody running. Then he folds the picture again. ``Now what do you see?''
I don't know, they say. ``I can't make it out. I see color, shape, forms.''
Bingo. Wright has made his point.
``The way I define abstraction is a closeup look at realism.''
He stressed that would-be connoisseurs should take time to look a little deeper, and not to go with their first impression. ``I want you to stand there and study the piece. I want your eye to take you on a journey. In doing that, you're going to see things.
``You may see a bird, a tree, or part of a human figure. You may see a seated woman, or a face.''
Three years ago, Wright began to feel the itch to grow. His work had looked somewhat the same for more than 20 years - textural, brushy abstracts with a decorative palette of yellows, mauves, burgundys, blues. The work had been good to him: He had a strong patronage, and had won several hundred awards through the years.
Still, the intuitive artist put out feelers, and waited for guidance.
Into his field of vision came West African fabrics, especially mud-cloth and kente cloth. The colors and patterns grabbed his attention. And, as an African American, the material harked back to his roots.
While not abandoning his other style of painting, Wright has created a new body of work since December. The series came to be called ``Primitive Heritage,'' and is characterized by references to the symbolic patterns found on the fabrics and by a far broader light-to-dark range.
Dark, atmospheric masses of color hover and soar on his surfaces. Abstract designs are found throughout his compositions, used in a manner reminiscent of calligraphic writing found along the borders in Chinese landscapes.
Wright called ``Middle Passage,'' one of his first works in the series, his ``theme piece.''
This work is divided in two sections. At the top, a sienna form suggestive of a boat appears to rock, as if buffeted by high winds. The lower section of the painting is dense with quick vertical marks. Between the rows of these ``tick''marks are red and green dots.
When Wright made this piece, he imagined the upper form was a boat full of slaves headed from Africa to America. The lower section looked to him like a bird's-eye view of the scene below deck where a crowd of Africans endured horrors.
But Wright's great-grandmother was Native American; that aspect of his heritage in mind, the top form could be seen as a bird, and the lower part interpreted as an abstraction of an Indian headdress.
Because of the introduction of content and a deeper palette, these new works appear more grounded than Wright's usual work.
Coincidentally, his animal of preference these days is the horse. Since childhood, he had always wanted one. Now, at age 51, he has his own horse, and rides often.
The key to riding is in adjusting to the animal's rhythm, he said. If you do otherwise, you get bounced all over the place.
As with the pigeons, Wright's casual comment resonated with the modus operandi of his art: ``You and the horse need to be of one movement. You have to get into the flow of this movement.''
KEYWORDS: PROFILE BIOGRAPHY ART PAINTING by CNB