by Eugene Hwang

An artist who uses images from an era other than his own has the difficult task of being true to two time periods. Future generations must be able to see that the work is distinctly from the 2000's and not the 1950's, but at the same time be convinced that the artist is an expert on the earlier era that inspires the work. "The role of the artist, of course, has always been that of image-maker. Different times require different images," Mark Rothko once said. Ken Zeromski's "When No One Was Looking" collection explores, among other things, what "different" means. "Different," perhaps, is an illusion.

by Eugene Hwang

Architecture is elevated to an almost divine status in Josep Frances' paintings. At the minimum, buildings have souls, linear in nature, and a presence that goes beyond their material limits. The creation inspires and influences the behavior of the creator. Man has altered his environment so successfully that the altered environment seems to have its own consciousness and one almost forgets that architecture is an invention, and not a being worthy of worship. Whatever remains of the original environment seems to be either in awe or full of envy and yearns for linearity.

by Eugene Hwang

In Jodi Csaszar Zielinski's work, color and subject are on amicable terms, though they may be at emotional odds. This is possible because Zielinski's subjects know they are, unavoidably, made of canvas. In "Hyena," the often reviled and feared creature is just a pup, taking a tentative step, its head lowered, while color transiently dances on its body. The movement resembles what one sees on a pressed LCD screen. Color seems as if it is activated rather than applied, as in a thermometer on an aquarium or a mood ring.

Ken Zeromski

"When No One Was Looking"
February 5th-28th, 2009

Opening Reception: February 13th
8:00-10:00pm

Ico Gallery is pleased to present "When No One Was Looking", a solo exhibition of work from artist Ken Zeromski. The show features pieces utilizing iconic imagery of Post-World War II American life but with a twist. Dark humor is abundant in his paintings, whether expressed through the image itself, visual cues, or even text.

Zeromski says of the subjects which he paints: "We are the sum of what came before us: if we are 4, then this is the 2+2 that got us here... My paintings are not meant to be nostalgic or represent a yearning for the past; they are meant to be a reflection of the present as interpreted through the past."

If Zeromski's works are visual representations of all things American, particularly in the contemporary sense, then the imagery of firearms he includes in a majority of his works provides a shocking, yet all-too-realistic commentary on society. Duel depicts two smiling women in a garden holding handguns, their intent clearly described in the title. More is perhaps the ultimate contrast in subject matter, with its imagery of a kitten and a little girl, the latter pointing a gun to an unseen target.

Ken Zeromski is currently based in Colorado, where in 2001 he became a member of the Colorado Artists Guild, with which he has exhibited many of his works and received awards celebrating his art. Since 2000 he has worked as a decorative artist and consultant for Brushwork, LLC.

For more information on our artists and images of their work please visit our website:

"The Birth Of Left And Right"
February 5th-28th, 2009
Opening Reception: February 13th
8:00-10:00pm

by Andrew Beckerman

In Daisuke Ujuan's biography, he has noted a number of influences, which range from proto-expressionist Edvard Munch to novelist Haruki Murakami. While putting stock in influences is a lot like deciding to heavily invest in securitized mortgages, they do, at the very least, delimit an area within which we can place the artist. Though others are mentioned, it seems these two - Munch and Murakami - really set the boundaries around Ujuan's art, which oscillates between creepy, surreal, hazy and terrifying. Even the most benign of his paintings has these qualities. "Man with fingers to head" on its own might not be alarming, but when put in sequence with his other works most assuredly gives one the feeling of dread, such that it's not far-fetched to suggest that if there had been a second painting of a moment later, the character would have blown his brains out with the flintlock simulacra.

by Andrew Beckerman

For all the abstract expressions evoked by Viktor Chernilevsky's artwork, there's something there that's more solid and less subject to whims than mere exigent outbursts of emotion. It's something that is bodily, for sure, somatic, that is, and that exists in mimic of or as a translation of the subcutaneous. In "The Hairdresser", hair forms into flagella, and flesh looks intestinal. "Master" is membranous, while "Bag 1", well, what is a cell if not a bag? A separation of inner and outer. Chernilevsky was born in Ukraine in the late 50s, and though it would be foolhardy to try and connect Soviet biology - Lysenkoism - and the attendant Marxian theories of evolution to Chernilevsky's art, we can imagine how prevalent those ideas might have been. As Lysenkoism fell into disfavor in what would have been Chernilevsky's youth, perhaps, like a fertilized egg attaches to the uterine wall, these free-floating ideas became lodged in his mind. Regardless, the point isn't to definitively say this was so, but rather to see the way in which forms - here thematically bodily - emerge out hither and thither out of culture.

by Eugene Hwang

That which closest resembles reality is pushed into the background in JC Lenochan's work, becoming decorative while simple two dimensional figures, silhouettes, like the permanent shadows of the victims of an Atomic Bomb and outlined figures, are brought into the foreground. In the conflict between art and reality, Lenochan seems to deem art the winner and whether this is a good thing isn't so much unclear as it is unstable. Art is as unavoidable as the passing of time, and is made necessary because of the passing of time.

by Andrew Beckerman

Trying to pin down Emin Guliyev is, as far as can be discerned, a mistake. To say this is not to criticize Guliyev, as if to reduce his sculptures to a flighty, wavering variability. This is wrongheaded anyway, for his art has a definite style. This style, however, is not something easily recognizable, but rather follow along the lines of a family resemblance. A family might have a grabbag of features - a nose that three members share, eyes that four do, ears for a few - such that any two members together reveals little. However, when an array is beheld, certain themes become apparent.