Industrial spaces, abandoned places

There is something naturally heartwarming about the “local makes good” story. In this case, New Hampshire-born artist Roll Hardy has called Portland home since the late ’90s, graduating from PNCA in 2002. This is his third show at the Russo Gallery, a presentation of work done in 2006.

It’s always best to walk directly into an intended show, avoiding potential comparisons. In this case, entering through the back door of the gallery into the smaller space is necessary, but worth it, as you walk directly into the bonfire of His Hero is Gone. Hardy tilts the plane of the work to invite the viewer into the circle of flames that resemble a campfire gone wrong. Trash and debris litter the ground and the cavernous, dilapidated interior gapes from the center of the canvas. Against the Portland-gray color scheme, it is the brightness of the flames and the balloons in the sky that attract the eye. Which leads to the obvious question: “Why balloons?”

In his accompanying statement, Hardy discusses his decision to depict industrial sites, addressing the potential for narrative and archaeology and the emptiness and danger that he felt while scouting. Inevitably, however, he leaves the definition of these places to the audience, citing the primary importance of the individual’s relation to the work.

With that in mind, the balloons make sense. They cause viewers to pause and reflect upon not only their presence, but also the cheerful contrast to the scene of despair. In the thick expressive gray of the sky, one can barely make out the word “disintegrated” scratched into the paint. Hardy plays with emotions throughout the show, however His Hero is the most visceral and successful work at evoking a response. Scale has a lot to do with this, as many of the accompanying works more closely resemble large snapshots than windows into a decaying world.

Quickly scanning the gallery gives a fairly accurate first impression. Hardy favors tonal grays in much of this work, muting many of his colors to resemble the mid-winter Portland palette. Besides the similarity of color, there is a lot of linear structure, not only the buildings themselves, but in patterns and organizations. This subtext supports the “industrial spaces,” but also emphasizes the disarray of the “abandoned places” works.

Religious works with the title of The Annunciation typically tell the happy story of the angel Gabriel informing Mary of her pregnancy. Hardy’s The Annunciation departs from this tradition with a damaged mannequin as the central focus. The room around her is barely standing, branches cross the floor and the wallboard seems to be disintegrating. A mattress lies just behind the legless, armless torso. Have we stopped in a moment too soon? Will this filth soon be a distant memory? Or is Hardy creating a contemporary parallel, what it means to be poor and outcast in the 21st century? Beyond the trash on the floor lie two doors, one to the outside, the other to a well-lit unknown. Perhaps we have missed the angel, and this is Mary left with her choice.

Hardy’s smaller works show a more real and immediately recognizable Portland. The Northeast industrial area is artfully framed by the Fremont Bridge, with the downtown skyline and West Hills recognizable in the fuzzy background. Intersections and industry are dutifully rendered in careful yet expressionistic detail. Sometimes Hardy’s brushwork seems barely contained by the small canvases, while in other works he delicately adds detail to be truly realistic.

After a while, the works begin to run together. Perhaps it is the color or the continuous theme. At first, each work is interesting, a glimpse of another life and another neighborhood that is unfamiliar and exciting. Danger seems possible, as does the excitement of discovery and adventure, yet these feelings wane and are eventually replaced with the sadness of familiarity. It is our Portland and Hardy’s that we see in these works, seen from the gritty, gray side of abandonment.

Roll Hardy and Whitney NyeFeb. 1-24Laura Russo Gallery