Allison Cortson

The ineffable fragility of existence has alternately mystified, irritated, and intrigued philosophers and artists throughout recorded history; in respect to this, Allison Cortson’s dust paintings remain something of an illusion, at once authentic and jesting. Cortson’s paintings share this dual identity, as well the surprising material, with Vik Muniz’s 2001 series “Pictures of Dust.” Although her portraits of young men and women—sending text messages, lounging at home, or working in a studio—are straightforward enough, the process is more slippery. The artist photographs her subjects in their home environments, also collecting dust from each locale. Referencing these photographs, Cortson paints vibrant and realistic portraits that, at their strongest, appear unposed, seemingly catching her subjects in the midst of daily experience. While Muniz’s works are photographs of dust more or less in its natural state, Cortson takes another approach, mixing the ephemeral material with epoxy to “paint” environments in a visual echo of the familiar longing to concretize or contain fleeting moments. It’s possible, as is the case with Amy Adler’s portraits, that an artist’s process can take on mythical proportions; though tempting, it would be unfortunate for viewers of Cortson’s paintings to take this route. To parse the details of her method is to miss the more engrossing senses of dissonance and yearning the results provoke.