Pictured above: A pair of bargoers observe Tampa-based artist Emily Tan’s exhibit, “overthinking.” on Friday, March 6.
Thomas Iacobucci | The Crow’s Nest
By Katlynn Mullins
At first glance, it’s paint poured arbitrarily onto a canvas.
Do a double take, and it’s a beach, a flame, a mecca of madness.
Emily Tan’s exhibit, “overthinking.” was on display at The Bends, 919 First Ave. N, during St. Petersburg’s monthly First Friday ventures — and it proved that Tan is no stranger to this process.
The pieces were hung on the wall opposite the bar, and everyone was turned away, drinking PBRs, trying to make their conversation last long enough to finish the cigarette a stranger had given them.
But that’s why it worked.
Tan is a Tampa-based artist. Her website is adorned with photos and videos of her on a ladder, surrounded by gallons of paint, pouring it down canvases that tower over her head.
These pieces were smaller though, and not all flat.
Skateboards, a circular panel and a longhorn skull were spread out among canvases of varying sizes.
Thomas Iacobucci | The Crow’s Nest
They were covered in an array of colors and patterns. Different messages rang through each one, and though the art seemed random, it was intentional.
Some pieces were wavy and covered the entire canvas; others only covered a portion, leaving a stark white background that contrasted neatly against the bright colors of the paint.
One of the biggest canvases was different, though. Each splotch of paint seemed as though it was blended with a palette knife. Each layer was prominent.
I stared at it for five minutes trying to figure out which color had been applied last, but I couldn’t ever figure it out.
At one point, it was the blue, but then it would get drawn out by the varying layers of green and yellow. There were layers of red and orange playing the same tricks on my brain, but the best part was the texture left in each stroke.
Some of the colors blended with one another, giving the viewer a brief glimpse of tie-dye among the slanted slashings of color.
Thomas Iacobucci | The Crow’s Nest
There was no bright white light accentuating each piece. The Bends’ dim lighting is meant to act as a hazy ambiance — something to make that fifth tequila shot feel like it wasn’t a big deal.
Tan’s art, and the exhibit’s name, depicted a paradox.
There’s only one chance with this medium. It can be manipulated and played with, but only so much cover-up can be achieved.
Everything has to be done with intention — overthinking is not recommended.
As music echoed down the hall and bargoers kept drinking, a pair walked up.
They pointed right at the skateboard on the wall and even touched it.
That’s what made this gallery so different.
Not everyone was picking it apart. You could reach out and touch it if it felt right. It could be purchased over Venmo.
There wasn’t an elaborate description under each piece — not even a title.
I once heard someone say, “the concepts that require little explanation are often the most true.”
There was so much freedom in each hue.
It’s easy to assume the artist’s intent, but a lack of wording left any meaning to be found by the viewer. It caught people’s attention without studio lighting and an elaborate layout.
Overthinking was left to those who wanted to do it.
