Estlund creates art made of gutted antiques juxtaposed with dead insects or fur, as in this piece, titled “Mother.”
Depth Charge
Jacksonville artist Mark Estlund looks below the surface to uncover beautiful new realities MARK ESTLUND EXHIBITS SEQUENCE VARIATIONS Nullspace Gallery, 109 E. Bay St., Jacksonville 716-4202 A closing reception is held on Wednesday, June 1 from 5-9 p.m. The exhibit is on display through June 3
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hile many artists are inspired to create by their natural surroundings, sculptor and installation artist Mark Estlund digs into the skeletal framework of momentary experience, attempting to rewire the clockwork of his reality. Gutted antiques keep company with pieces of fur and dead insects, juxtaposed materials pushed to the point of deliberate mutation. The 35-year-old Riverside resident creates these chimerical objects in his Springfield workshop-cum-laboratory in an effort to mirror what Estlund believes humans seem to naturally do: Manipulate the inevitability of both life and death. “When I was a young kid, I was very interested in the details of life and objects,” explains the Philly-born self-taught artist. “I felt strongly that there was something deep going on.” As a teen in Jacksonville, he doubted his nascent creative abilities. But after being grounded by his parents for almost an entire school year, he retreated to the family garage, where he began making “weird” objects. He bypassed the standard beginner projects of a clay ashtray or hammered belt buckle. “I tried to make a laser, and a ‘Predator’ helmet,” he says, referring to the 1987 Arnold Schwarzenegger sci-fi flick. “I had some weird idea about how to make a prism suit but couldn’t figure out how to make such a thing.” In his early 20s, Estlund hit the road with $800 and a mattress in the back of his truck, in search of “real life.” After several months of wandering, he wound up west of Boulder, living in the Colorado mountains, cooking over a fire, bathing in a stream and living in a tent. “I found real life,” he says. Upon returning to Jacksonville, the reenergized Estlund met artist Lee Harvey, who encouraged him to stay on the creative path. “Lee was the first person to recognize that what I was doing was contemporary art,” says Estlund. After surrendering to more wanderlust and a brief residency in San Francisco’s Bay Area, Estlund again returned to Riverside and
began to create. He likens the process to the way he once heard a mathematician describe his approach to a complex problem. “He said that when he is solving an equation, it is like the universe has opened up its doors to reveal all the secrets it has to offer.” The latest clandestine portals that Estlund has uncovered are on display as the installation “Sequence Variations” at Nullspace Gallery’s new location in downtown Jacksonville. The show is inspired by the realm of equations. “There is the DNA Sequence equation and then there are the variations.”
“The art scene [in Northeast Florida] is totally unobscured by who’s hot and who’s not.” Estlund describes his show as a blend of science and mythology. Sculptures like his latest piece “Der Erlkonig” marry fact with fantasy, as a staid-looking grandfather clock sprouts bullhorns, its doors filled with blue-tinted glass. While Estlund finds it hard to pinpoint the timeline in creating each piece, he admits this latest endeavor was no small feat, taking more than a year to complete. “I was tortured by it.” Estlund is hardly a tormented madman, toiling alone in frustration. Along with wife and fellow artist Shannon, Estlund also navigates the art of parenting in the house they share with their two daughters, ages 4 and 1. He has shown locally in venues ranging from onetime Riverside art-punk haunt The Pit to The Cummer Museum of Art & Gardens. Along with painter Harvey, he also gives props to local arts impresario Cabeth Cornelius, “who is a bad ass and pretends like she’s not.” Estlund finds solace in the area arts community, a “grassroots” scene that’s helped encourage his own signature style of assembling a new reality. “The art scene [in Northeast Florida] is totally unobscured by who’s hot and who’s not,” says Estlund, who also sees that same self-support creating a scene that’s “super tight.” Yet there’s always room for exposure, and Estlund has already solved one equation that would benefit all involved: “Fund the arts.” Dan Brown dbrown@folioweekly.com
MAY 10-16, 2011 | folio weekly | 35