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Arts Stories In Focus

Kinesthesia: Designed to Engage

Professor Ryann Cooley’s solo show, Kinesthesia Room (2), opens at the Olean Center Gallery on Friday, April 20 at 6:00 p.m.

Kinesthesia Room (2), designed to engage the present viewer, is an immersive environment constructed on site. In a darkened room, projected video footage reflects from 54 strips of metal suspended from the ceiling. These reflective strips, stirred by the motion of viewers, cast light dancing on the bare gallery walls.

a mother and her baby gaze at an exhibit
On Friday, April 20 at 6:00 p.m., Professor Ryan Cooley’s solo show, Kinesthesia Room (2), opens at the Olean Center Gallery. It will remain open through May 25th, 2018.

Installation art such as Kinesthesia Room (2) diverges from traditional two-dimensional media such as photography. Rather than an experience which draws viewers out of themselves and their sense of space, installation art allows them to physically enter the piece, and activates awareness of the space it occupies. In Cooley’s recent piece, the projected video footage is fragmented by multiple moving reflective strips. The dynamism of moving footage and abstracted reflections, as well as a sound component, requires the viewer to center their senses in the present to engage with the piece and make sense of the obfuscated information orbiting and immersing them.

Cooley’s upcoming show is the second iteration of the Kinesthesia Room, which was first shown in a 12’ x 12’ space in the Visual Arts Gallery in NYC. A viewer’s account of Kinesthesia Room (1) had a strong physical and emotional reaction to  the piece.

“Upon entering this darkened environment, solely visible by the movement of an ethereal luminance, my spatial and physical awareness becomes obfuscated. As I slowly move around the space, color, light and sounds modulate,” reads the statement, found on Cooley’s website. “What appears to be an object central to my surroundings becomes inaccessible at moments and then obtainable at others. Everything is in motion.”

Houghton students are invited to make a pilgrimage to the Olean Center Gallery to engage with the experience he has created in Kinesthesia Room (2). The way you experience the piece is up to you – and your body. Some people have been dazzled, some have become meditative, and others have felt vertiginous dizziness amid the dynamic light and sound.

Kinesthesia Room (2) opens on Friday, April 20th from 6:00 p.m. to 8:00 p.m. at the Olean Center Gallery, and runs through May 25, 2018. A Houghton shuttle will be bringing a group of art majors and minors to the opening, and all students are welcome at the show.

Contact Ellen Hatch at Ellen.Hatch@houghton.edu to inquire about shuttle availability.

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Arts Stories In Focus

The Brilliance of “Bone Memory”

Houghton alum and abstract painter Stefan Zoller displayed his exhibit “Bone Memory” from January 12 to February 3 this year in Sla307 Art Space, NYC. Zoller works with heavily layered acrylic paint, and bases his pieces on the diagrammatic line drawings of his paternal grandfather, J. Harold Zoller. Intergenerational connection echoes through his recent works, and he drew the title “Bone Memory” from a poem of the same name by his father Dr. James Zoller, who teaches writing and English at Houghton.

a geometric and abstract painting of hay in a field
Houghton alumn and abstract painter Stefan Zoller works with heavily layered acrylic paint and bases his pieces on the diagrammatic line drawings of his paternal grandfather, J. Harold Zoller.

Before he graduated from Houghton College in 2008, Stefan Zoller studied under Ted Murphy, who, he said, was his first example of a practicing painter, and whose “influence on [his] development as an artist cannot be understated.” Zoller was struck by the variance between Murphy’s “vividly colored abstractions” and his older “traditional representational portraits and floral paintings.” Zoller’s mature works are “in a constant state of flux.” He may have between 10-40 paintings in process at any given time, and, he said, Murphy’s “willingness to delve into wildly different styles of painting served as [his] primary model for what it meant to be a painter and artist.“

Stefan spends hours, days, and sometimes years with each painting. He builds thick layers of acrylic paint and other materials to create detailed textures that separate the viewer from J. Harold Zoller’s diagrams, upon which Stefan paints. These barriers obfuscate his grandfather’s precise drawings, and echo the legacy and experience of remembering a man whom Stefan never met.

“They provided an opportunity to discover things about myself that I had been attempting to get at for years,” said Stefan Zoller of the minimalist heirloom drawings his father passed on to him in 2015. “They helped crystallize the conceptual aspects of my work as well as provided a formal framework upon which to paint.”

Were you to see him wrangle copious quantities of acrylic paint as he experiments amid a mess of materials in his home studio, you likely wouldn’t guess that Zoller was once a “prideful oil painter” with a disdain for acrylics. During Zoller’s early career, the long drying time of oil paints stymied him, as they forced him to “hurry up and wait” rather than work rapidly and experimentally as he does now. When he chanced upon an opportunity to acquire a mass quantity of acrylic paints during his second semester of his MFA at Syracuse University, he found a liberty which allowed his artistic development to flourish.

“Acrylic paint enabled me to work through ideas and processes much more efficiently,” said Zoller, who has drawn influence from his father’s writing, Norse mythology, and Scandanavian heavy and extreme metal music. The compass of his influences becomes apparent in his body of work, which features pieces that range between complexity and minimalism. Some are thickly laden with paint encroaching beyond the constraining borders of his canvases, and skeletal and topographic forms manifest themselves through his process.

Looking at where his work has brought him thus far, Zoller believes that “Bone Memory” contains his most mature paintings to date, as well as several threads that will lead to new areas of exploration.

Stefan Zoller currently lives in Rochester and teaches at RIT. He fills his days teaching drawing and design, experimenting with his art, and raising his son. His roots, however, lie in Houghton. “Houghton was where I grew up, made friends, and met my wife, he said, “so I will always have that connection.” Houghton College is also the place where he studied under Ted Baxter, the professor who inspired him and arranged his first professional apprenticeship with painter Thomas S. Buechner.

In fall of 2018, Stefan Zoller will be displaying a solo exhibition in Houghton’s Ortlip Gallery. During that time he hopes to interact with the art faculty and students. “My intention is to continue to work hard,” remarked Zoller, “and my hope is that as many viewers as possible can resonate with these paintings in a way that is meaningful for them.”

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Opinions

May You All Find Rest

Tragedies are a time to come together. The shock that comes with senseless loss of life demands that we speak – that we console one another and affirm the lives of those around us as we mourn those which have so suddenly ended. On November 5, posters handwritten in Sharpie appeared on doors around Houghton’s campus:

“In Memory of those lost Today in Sutherland Springs, Texas, may you all Rest in Peace.”

Students are shaken after a tragedy – afraid for their friends and family near to acts of brutality, and heartbroken that someone would bring such hatred to a place where people celebrated their deeply held identity. The simple message written out on printer paper was a comfort to students going through their day in a haze, and students organized a prayer meeting in the campus center, pulling one another close in solidarity amid confusing and violent circumstances. This is the power of the Church, one body which feels in unison and comforts in unison.

Some people, however, have found themselves on the outside of this embrace. Even students who have dedicated their youth to the church, who have committed their college years to Christian institutions, and have given themselves in trust to the communities which promise them the love of God may feel that this love is conditional.

Secular students, religious minorities, and queer Christian students here have been met with a question when they ask for acceptance: “Why did you even come here if you’re like that? You knew what you were getting into.”

As though they should expect marginalization as a matter of course at a place built on Christ.

Our college years are times of upheaval and change. Many young people are free for the first time to examine their faith and identity without pressures from their families. It’s a time to finally explore truth beyond the force of tradition or the threat of punishment. Why would students who don’t fit the evangelical template come to Houghton College?

Maybe it’s because they were never given a chance to realize their differences until now. Maybe it’s because they gave all they had to the Church, and had nowhere else to go. Maybe it’s because they expected a welcome at a place advertising God’s love.

A loud sector of students make it clear who is welcome here: “I’m uncomfortable on a campus that tolerates the presence of sin,” one of several loud students proclaimed during an SGA forum last fall, describing the way he saw the presence of the LGBTQ+ community as a dark cloud of evil. Anonymous messages left on campus have seconded such sentiments: a declaration on a whiteboard that being gay is “heresy;” an ominous statement on the sidewalk in Hebrew, translating “your days are numbered;” and, a classic, the succinct but expressive “fag.”

Worship is an integral part of Houghton culture, a major bonding force among students and a chance to serve and bless one another. Queer students have been stripped of their positions in prayer and music ministries after coming out, solely because they would not renounce their identity. The college apparently sanctions this discrimination, and has added RA to the list of service positions which gay students in relationships are unfit to hold here.

This is the world queer students live in. This is their harsh reality – one where their place here at Houghton, and among their churches and communities, is constantly on trial.

The way that we respond to tragedy is one of the ways our values show most clearly. And on the heels of the most recent in a seemingly endless procession of painful episodes, I can’t help but think of the stories of these students and their questions.

We responded in the right way, the only Christian way, to the tragedy in Sutherland Springs. We came together in love and we prayed, we mourned, and we comforted one another as a family.

When will we do anything but debate the worth of the students who are, truly, the most vulnerable students in the world of American Christianity? Will we stand up and affirm that these lives matter just as much as those of straight theology majors and the rest who fit the evangelical mold?

It’s time, don’t you think, to take to heart the words Houghton carved in stone on her walls: “Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you.”

Let’s embrace all of those among us who are hurt. We can do it. There’s room at the table, there’s room in our prayers, and there’s room in the heart of Christ.

It’s time to make room, now, in our own hearts – and to live the compassion of the God we love.

Eli is a sophomore majoring in communication with a concentration in media arts and visual communication.

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Campus Stories In Focus

Catholic Students Embrace Heritage

“We go because Jesus Christ is present,” explained Honus Wagner ‘20, who spends his Sunday evenings in the basement of the Wesley Chapel. A student’s time is valuable, especially when relationships have grown tense and coursework heavy as the semester hits its halfway point. But every Sunday at six, you’ll find a group of students setting aside an hour of their busy lives to be still, to be together, and to be with God.

Three years ago, Wagner was a student at the conservative Charles Finney School, a Protestant high school in Rochester. But as of September 12, he stands as the President of a newly christened Houghton club called Catholics on Campus.

Catholic students at Houghton college have come a long way. Elizabeth Clark ‘18 recalled that in her early days at Houghton, it felt like she and the only two other Catholic students she knew were “standing alone.” Clark doesn’t want any of them to experience the isolation she had. “It was always sad for us,” she said, “when we really craved that Catholic community outside of just church.”

Catholics on Campus provides that sense of community. They hold weekly meetings and Sunday Vesper services to pray together and discuss their faith, and over seventy students have joined their mailing list.

Andrew Schulz ‘20, a lifelong parishioner of the North American Baptist conference, reflects that faith is “the main conversation piece on campus” at Houghton. For denominational minorities, these constant conversations often reveal the “lack of understanding” they feel the majority has of their traditions. Lutherans, Episcopalians, and Roman Catholics join Houghton at one-fifth of the rate of other colleges, and among students “obsessed with what church you go to and what denomination you identify as,” said Libby Best ‘20, a Lutheran. It’s difficult to avoid confrontation with negative messages about these liturgical traditions. Peers have regularly called her baptism invalid (Lutherans practice infant baptism) and told her that she’s “not a proper Christian.” For Catholic students facing similar confrontations, Best said, “it seems like they just really want a place to be themselves.”

“I think it’s very brave of them to stand up and say ‘this is what we believe,’” said Best. But while they’re glad to educate others, spiritual growth together is the priority: “We’re learning too,” said Clark. Wagner agreed, affirming that the main goal of the group is to “stay spiritually healthy.”

Their shared devotion has led to a strong sense of community in the group. “We have a unique bond of faith,” said Wagner. They worship together with liturgical practices such as group prayers, and experiencing God together as a community only strengthens this bond. “That’s why it’s called liturgy,” explained Wagner: “It’s ‘the work of the people.’

Catholics on Campus welcomes and includes anyone who wants to share in this work. Students of a variety of denominations have participated in their Sunday night Vesper services, and several of these Protestant students have become regular participants. Wagner finds that many church services today lack the mindfulness and prayerful atmosphere that allows him to connect to God – and he believes that the time-tested traditions of the Catholic Church can provide the connection that churchgoers are missing.

Liturgical prayer can be intimidating for those who aren’t used to this type of participant worship: “I feel like I’m going to do something wrong,” explained Schulz, “Like I’m going to mess up the words.” “I completely relate to being lost, too, because I was definitely lost,” said Clark, who was confirmed two years ago. She laughed before adding: “I still get lost sometimes.” While you may be conscious of your stumbling at first, Wagner agreed, you’ll eventually realize that “really nobody cares” about mistakes, and you’ll be able to slow down and focus on the prayer. “It’s a very human experience,” Clark stated.

When Steve Dunmire spoke in chapel this past September, he told students that “in a world that never stops moving, rest is a radical rebellion.” If you find yourself in the basement of the Chapel on a Sunday night, you won’t find the clamor of a crowd or the glare of stage lights—just a quiet group of students sitting together, praying their ancient liturgy in the soft light of their little room. You won’t be watching a performance, but you’ll be a part of the work. You won’t be spoken at, you’ll be speaking with. It’s quiet. It’s thoughtful. It’s different —and it might be just the kind of rest we’re longing for.