Emily Peacock at Jonathan Hopson Gallery and Lawndale Art Center

by Caitlin Duerler Chávez October 13, 2021

Installation view of Emily Peacock: die laughing in John M. O’Quinn Gallery at Lawndale Art Center, Houston. Image by Nash Baker, courtesy of Lawndale.

For the past decade, Houston-based artist Emily Peacock has built a body of work reflecting intimate issues concerning mental health, family, and motherhood with humorous, conceptual devices rendered using photographic and mixed-media processes. Portraiture in her solo exhibition Pure Comedy (2019) at the Art Museum of Southeast Texas featured a pair of oval portraits of the artist and her partner in hazmat suits, reifying the anxiety of new parents in the many measures necessary to protect their child and rear him in a safe environment. Peacock explores these personal themes and experiments with new material in two new Houston shows, Lightweight at Jonathan Hopson Gallery and die laughing at Lawndale Art Center.

The intimate feeling of Jonathan Hopson Gallery, with its deep wood panel trim, white walls, and plentiful natural lighting, provides a domestic ambiance to Peacock’s Lightweight. The exhibition is a re-examination of the icons and media of middle-class childhood with a photographer’s eye and a historian’s heart. 

Gallery view, Spreading and Trading (2021) on left and The Portrait Selection (2021) by Emily Peacock, image provided by Jonathan Hopson Gallery.

The Polaroid camera is one specific media Peacock uses in shows at both Jonathan Hopson and Lawndale that intersects with her upbringing and interest in photographic history. A series of nine Polaroids titled The Portrait Selection (2021) features individual exposures as small, upcycled paintings. Armed with spray paint, the artist creates silhouettes of a variety of mat shapes used in framing. The four photographs in the bottom left of the series include the dreaded brown background on the instant developing film — a visual indication that the film is old and can no longer expose an image. Peacock playfully punches through these brown backgrounds with central, robin’s egg blue forms. The painting on the bottom right is a coupling of oval shapes in front of an overexposed Polaroid backdrop; a horizontal brown band at the top suggests a brow. The orange shapes positioned below the brow resemble two wide-open eyes.

The Portrait Selection (2021) by Emily Peacock, image provided by Jonathan Hopson Gallery

Peacock continues to experiment with media and shape-making in several drawings in the gallery, which invoke childhood memories of sitting on the floor at home and coloring for hours— not unlike aspects of the artist’s own experiences raising her toddler. The compositions of these pictures share the austere situating of the forms to each other, as seen in Peacock’s earlier still-life photography of snack food. In Reduced and minor (2021), seven separate figures are imaginatively layered with shapes and decorative elements rendered in Prismacolor pencil. The two most prominent central forms with their scalloped edges share profiles with snack foods like Ritz Crackers and Pop-Tarts, and historical examples of decorative borders used in early photography. In a horizontal band at the bottom of the drawing, three shapes emulate an eye’s anatomical structure and a camera’s internal mechanisms.

Reduced and minor (2021) by Emily Peacock, image provided by Jonathan Hopson Gallery

The exhibition includes one series of photographs called Bayou Behemoths (2021), which explore similar forms seen in historical framing and matting in the use of the negative space of the sky around the trees. Using an infrared effect to develop the image, the Port-Arthur-born Peacock guides viewers in reexamining the Gulf-Coastal explosion of kudzu, with a childlike sense of imagination — overgrown bushes and trees become purple monsters akin to Grimace (the veteran McDonald’s mascot) and Barney the Purple Dinosaur.  

Close up of photographs in Bayou Behemoths (2021) by Emily Peacock, image provided by Jonathan Hopson Gallery

Photographic works at Peacock’s exhibition die laughing at Lawndale Art Center depart from the mischievous humor of Lightweight to a darker comedy. A portrait Helluva Performa (2021), leaning against the gallery wall and held in place with insulation foam, features the artist’s son Indiana, dressed as Spiderman posing with a magnolia. On a column facing this portrait is die laughing, a self-portrait of the artist engaging the viewer directly with exhausted eyes, her son’s fist in her mouth. While one reading might be an East Texan Saturn Devouring her Child, her eyes betray her desire to escape. The bottom right corner exposes her giggling son.

Hellevu Performa (2021) on far left, installation view of Emily Peacock: die laughing in John M. O’Quinn Gallery. Image by Nash Baker, courtesy of Lawndale.

Another installation in the gallery includes a series of four framed Polaroid pictures called Relentless & Bananas (2021). Three of the images are self-portraits, the artist wearing a Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation (TMS) apparatus. Each image represents a single beat of the triadic pulse of the TMS device, a form of therapy used to stimulate nerve cells in the brain for patients with depression. The fourth image concluding the series is a picture of a pair of overripe bananas. The artist uses the literal representation of the colloquial metaphor “going bananas” to de-stigmatize shame concerning mental health. While past mental health issues she has tackled visually have touched on grief, loss, and postpartum depression, the title and images in this work testify to Peacock’s recent experience in a mental rehabilitation facility.

die laughing at Lawndale is not all dark humor, with cheeky works like the short, looped video Salami Mommy (2021) and a plaster casting of the artist’s elbow called Funny Bone: I Don’t Feel It ‘Til It Hurts (2021). Peacock’s work in both shows conceptualizes a range of comedic styles, from witty wordplay to self-deprecation. Comedy even becomes media in her art; one sculpture at Jonathan Hopson is supported by cast Whoopie cushions. Equal to her love of humor, both exhibitions are testaments to her passion for film photography and its history, and its influence is palpable throughout all her works, photographic or otherwise.

On view at Jonathan Hopson Gallery, Houston, through Sunday, Dec. 6, 2021, and on view at  Lawndale Art Center, Houston, through Jan. 15, 2022.


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Howard Sherman October 13, 2021 - 17:18

Chávez gave us a pleasant description of the work but not much else. With such an abundance of work in this double-header, it would’ve been nice if this critic dug a little deeper.

Chávez October 13, 2021 - 22:54

Thanks for the feedback Howard! Def lots to chew on in both shows and hopefully the review will lead viewers to explore and expand on some of my ideas.

HOWARD SHERMAN October 14, 2021 - 00:33

There’s a difference between a review and a description. (I believe Jerry Saltz has ranted about this recent phenomenon on occasion?) It feels like we’re living in a time where much “criticism” is fearful of building an argument or opinion that takes a stand. “I like the work because_____” or “I don’t like the work because_____.”

We all lose out intellectually when the critic is afraid to criticize. It’s an unfortunate byproduct of a larger cultural situation of softness. The result is a disservice for readers.

Vic N. October 14, 2021 - 09:53

Great review! I love how you pulled out the themes of humor and anxiety in the exhibitions. It was interesting to read how the artist balances the different aspects of her personal experience for a tension within the works. Can’t wait to go see this show! Contrary to the other comments, I think you did a great job in critiquing the exhibition. I felt like there was a good balance between review and description to guide the reader through the exhibitions.

Emily Peacock October 14, 2021 - 11:49

Thank you!!! Thank you!! I really appreciate you writing about my work!:)

Chávez October 14, 2021 - 12:25

From one middle-class Gulf Coaster with cheese puff dust and baloney slime in her veins to another, it has been my pleasure to view your work and see your continual growth. Bravo on both shows!

Christina Rees October 14, 2021 - 12:31

I am a longtime follower of EP’s work, and Caitlin Duerler Chávez pulled out ideas and concepts from the work I’ve never considered before. The review is subtle, and smart.


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