Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Mike Adams' Art


My first photos (below) did not do justice to the art, especially their layered three-dimensional depth. So I tried again, at an angle and without flash. It's a little better. This is a small sample of a diverse body of work.


Mike Adam's art decorates my new apartment. Some of it. His crowded studio room overflows with his work, art upon art, “non-objective abstract three-dimensional art,” he calls it. I say it’s beautiful but he corrects me: “beautiful” it isn’t. Yes, I see what he means. Beautifully executed, beautiful colors, beautiful ideas, but more complicated than merely “beautiful.”

Mike's multi-varied art is detailed, emotional, layered, inspired. It's rhythmic, too, like music on canvas, or like a pumping heart. Sometimes it's tortured, like the complicated wiring of a brain on overload; sometimes peaceful, like a respite for the afflicted in a serene garden; sometimes both in the same piece of work, always the complex interior world of this talented artist.

Mike Adams is my daughter Michelle’s partner. They’re having a baby boy, Chase, in September. In preparation, Mike has painted a large, beautiful, oops, I mean stunning and dramatic, mural for his first child. It’s like a large colorful map for a child’s journey, full of animals and symbols, paths and byways, imagination and hope. It pays homage to Michelle’s other three children, too, Alli, Josh, and Kyle, part of a growing Adams and Cary clan in Sylvania, Ohio.

Mike also experiments with clay, watercolor, figurative painting. He is full of ideas. Sometimes his body doesn’t cooperate, his MS takes a hold, but he paints through the pain and the agony. He puts it on canvas for us to witness. When I view Mike's paintings I see, for the first time, what MS is like, what it is like for him, what it was like for my cousins Skip and Maria.

As complicated as Mike's work is, a viewer is drawn in, and this even though the art sometimes pushes us away. “Beautiful it isn't.” Multi-layered, bold, sensitive, masterful and meaningful it is.

Mike's art opens a whole new world. I hope he continues to paint and exhibit (and organize and put up a website) after Chase is born, although he is looking forward to being a full-time dad. I don’t see how he could stop his art, though. It’s in his blood, his veins, his arteries, his wiring, his heart. "It is who I am," he says simply.


Post a Comment

A Message from Loren: "Hey you guys have work to do. Don't stop now!"

It's been eight years since my dear brother's last hike, on May 23, 2010. He died along the trails of Northern Florida in a ...