“April is the cruelest month,” says Didi Menendez of 33 Contemporary. “My mother died on April 1, 2020, during the height of Covid, and we were not able to have a service for her. I remember her every morning and I may be in perpetual mourning for the rest of my life. I honor her with art in some way, shape or form every year. This year is with this curation.” The exhibition M O (U) R N I N G, which runs online for the month of April, is about both morning and mourning and how the two interact with one another.
Each painting, from quiet interiors to poignant portraits, is intimate in its own way. 
Amy Ordoveza, Looking Out, oil on aluminum, 16 x 20"“Mornings of the Unknownis part of a series centered around breath and moments in the early hours of the mornings I spent awake after I became paralyzed," shares artist Connie Karleta Sales. “Pondering beyond the self of my body, I contemplated how I live my life forward? How it changes, sometimes daily, sometimes each hour. A dance of the flow, of moments unknown; of smiles and tears, miles and rest. My breath. I lose heart and I loose my heart. Never a static beat as I feel and appreciate breath in the inhale and the exhale.”
Linda Post, Aurora, pastel on gesso panel, 18 x 24"
Connie Karleta Sales, Mornings of the Unknown, digital (ink, charcoal, pastel) on Moab natural paper, 10 x 8"Her piece feels like emotion rendered in visual form. “Morning and mourning come together in the quiet stillness before the busyness of the day arrives. I have a window next to my bed so I can look out on the mountains. I spend a lot of time in bed due to my illness (neuromyelitis optica). Dawn provides both hope and grief. When light is just coming over the mountains, there is joy for another day; simultaneously, it can be lonely with reminders of loss. Then the moment the sun is up bursting over the mountains, its glow brings me back to the present,” she says.
Stephanie Deshpande, Infestation, oil on linen, 30 x 30"
In Linda Post’s pastel Aurora, a woman extends her hands toward the sky as a bird flies overhead. “Birds have long been choreographed into my work, sometimes as companions, other times as avatars of change, growth or escape. The conjunction of women and birds placed in enigmatic landscapes and seascapes evokes an especially vivid dream,” says Post. The artist cites a quote by writer and activist Terry Tempest Williams, from When Women Were Birds: “Once upon a time, when women were birds, there was the simple understanding that to sing at dawn and to sing at dusk was to heal the world through joy. The birds still remember what we have forgotten, that the world is meant to be celebrated.”
Patricia Schappler, Blue Girl, oil on cradled board, 24 x 18"
Post continues, “The woman in this painting raises her arms to embrace the dawn at sea, accompanied by seabirds, her face lit by the rising sun. As she greets the new day, a part of her remembers when women were birds and mourns that existential loss.”
Looking Out, a trompe l’oeil by Amy Ordoveza, depicts a paper bird perched on a winter branch just beyond a paper window frame in front of a blue fabric background. “The bird is based on the flock of crows I see near my home each day,” says Ordoveza. “When Didi linked the concepts of morning and mourning in curating this show, it brought to my mind a quote from Psalms: ‘Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning.’ It speaks of experiencing both sadness and hope. In Looking Out, a sense of mourning may be evoked by the bare winter branch and inclusion of a crow rather than a summer song bird. Winter has often served as a metaphor for sadness in art and poetry. The viewer isn’t able to see far past the paper window frame, stopped by the shallow space of the trompe l’oeil…At the same time, there is sunlight falling on the window and crow, the colors are harmonious and lines suggest stillness and calm. A crow is after all, a bird, bringing associations with flight and freedom. I see a lot of hope in this image.” —
33 Contemporary Zhou B Art Center
4th Floor • 1029 W. 35th Street • Chicago, IL 60609
(708) 837-4534 • www.33contemporary.com
www.artsy.net/show/33-contemporary-m-o-u-r-n-i-n-g
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