B.C. Nowlin is, and always has been, unapologetically true to himself. In high school, he got kicked out of art class because he insisted on painting burning buses to illustrate a school field trip.

Later, he would create bodies of work that centered around the female form, lonely travelers on bicycles, motels and motorcycles, his style altering with the subject matter. Today, Nowlin is best known for his “Native American” imagery, although these works have been interpreted more broadly. Where some might see a cluster of pueblos, the artist views them as less specific ancient sacred villages he calls “citadels.” Legendary musician Robert Plant has said he collects these pieces because they remind him of Morocco.

B.C. Nowlin, Veiled Habitat, oil on canvas, 36 x 48"

In an article in the Washington Post, T. Hurst wrote that Nowlin “changes images faster than most of us change clothes.”

Nowlin says at least eight artists exist within him, each clamoring for equal time at the canvas. Right now, the inner artist in command is deeply engaged with a new series that, while radically different visually from what has come before, is rooted in similar themes of the human journey. But now, instead of what appear to be Indigenous figures on horseback riding into a fiery landscape, the central subjects of these large-scale paintings are precariously stacked towers against pastel skies.

This body of work, along with examples from amother new series of motels, will be part of a joint show with encaustic landscapist Shari Lyon. The show, Shouts and Whispers: Man and Nature Pierce the Sky, will be on view at the Marshall Gallery in Scottsdale, Arizona, from January 16 through January 29.

Shari Lyon, Strati, encaustic, 60 x 24"

Some may see the structures that seemed doomed to topple as dystopian, but for Nowlin they are triumphant.

“I see this wonderful ambition,” he says. “Someone built these towers and look how tall and spectacular they are.” In the works where a figure appears, “They’re standing on top in the wind, hands on their hips, proud as can be, their terrible craftsmanship aside. I tend to think of myself on top of that tower, saying ‘jeez look at what I built.’ But I really don’t know who built this tower and I don’t know if it will last or not.

B.C. Nowlin, Red Red Habitat, oil on canvas, 60 x 48"

“When I look at the pieces after producing a group of them, I see them as analogous to the whole journey of life. Maybe it’s mankind, which is obviously not so perfect, or the story of high ambitions, big dreams and terrible craftsmanship. But being ever the optimist, I think they’re contemplating the next level.” Nowlin views his own paintings with the same sense of wonder another obsever might. “I paint first and ask questions later,” he says. “I think it’s saved my life and the arc of my art that I’m willing to paint what I don’t understand, and not rationalize it and try to beat it down to something understandable.”

B.C. Nowlin, Citadel Habitat, oil on canvas, 48 x 60" 

Nowlin paints completely from his imagination, without any reference material or even laying down a sketch on the canvas before applying his brush, and he is proud of this fact. “Everything I do, I create,” he says. “I’m not transposing a plan…I’m up inside of that world, and the painting informs me about what should happen next. The magic seems to be in producing the painting itself. I’m inside the tower; I’m inside the image, working entirely from an internal picture. That matters tremendously to me. This is a creation that happened on the canvas.”

In Veiled Habitat,sheets of white cloth  stream off the structure like the sails of a ship in the wind. Nowlin starts with the background then builds the tower from the bottom up. “Shape by shape, up it goes,” he says. “I’m building that sloppy tower just like whoever built it. It’s the child in me that’s painting. I paint to amuse myself. I will drop it in a heartbeat if it becomes boring to me. I want to be excited and for it to be endlessly interesting. At this moment this is what I’m most excited about because I’m seeing it.”

Shari Lyon, Tree Essences, encaustic on panel, 20 x 16"

Citadel Habitat harkens back to his earlier work, the tower composed of a dense cluster of pueblo-style architecture; while a faint moon hangs over the top-heavy building blocks in Red Red Habit. Whether a figure is visible or not, man is omnipresent in the illuminated windows and the handiwork itself.

“It’s all about people within this larger natural world. I can’t ignore the human story or how everything we look at is infused with who are. The towers seem to be right where I’m at…where life seems to be for me right now,” says Nowlin. “The older we get, I think the more we need to get a bigger and bigger view of this world. [The towers] seem like a very big idea. The impact of mankind is everywhere. Here is man clamoring toward the sky. I’m still an optimist who believes those towers will hold together. We just have to climb, we have to keep going. We have to dream and move forward despite our weaknesses and imperfections, of which I have many.”

B.C. Nowlin, Flashlights at the Golden Spur, oil on canvas, 16 x 40"

Lyon diverts our attention away from the manmade to the natural world with her dreamy, ethereal landscapes where trees, not towers, reach for the sky. The artist works in encaustic, an ancient painting medium comprised of heat-fused layers of beeswax, resin and pigment. She likes to say she didn’t find encaustic; encaustic found her. More than 10 years ago she came across an encaustic piece in a gallery and it brought her to tears. “I knew I had to work with that medium. I like to have a lot of control in my life and working in encaustic is one of those places where I can’t, and I know I can’t,” she shares. “I have to know about its characteristics but then I really have to let go and just work with it instead of trying to control it. It’s very therapeutic and soothing to me. And I don’t tend to be a very calm and soothed person.”

Trees, their symbolism and imagery, are the main source of Lyon’s inspiration. “I just have always had a connection with trees,” she says. “Initially, I just aesthetically loved them. But as I started doing more work with the trees, I found this incredible connection between trees and the divine feminine, and how many different cultures and religions assign feminine deities to trees. That was really intriguing to me.

B.C. Nowlin, Habitat Autumn, oil on canvas, 48 x 36"

“As a little girl when you grow up in our culture, specifically American culture, in school you hear about all these men who did wonderful things,” Lyon continues. “Everything you hear in history is all very male-centric and as females we miss out on having these women figures to feel connected to. I guess the little girl in me likes knowing that they’ve been here all along even if I didn’t know it. 

 “I consider myself quite a feminist and I think women are so underrepresented so any representation is positive for me, and if I can have that spirit behind my work I feel like I’m connecting to other women.”

Echo from the Pastis something of an anomaly for Lyon. It was a completely different painting but when a gallery shipped it back to her, it arrived severely damaged. “I had to carve it back almost completely to repair it,” she says. “But instead of starting over I decided to build on what was there. It’s kind of a rebirth from a very upsetting experience. That was one I wanted to save and use as catharsis.”

Shari Lyon, Echo from the Past, encaustic on panel, 48 x 48"

In Strati the gold leaf-accentuated horizon line is in the upper portion of the canvas, and speaks to Lyon’s fascination with all that goes unseen. “The more you think about what is under us or the house or the tree, [the more you realize there] are so many levels we miss out on.” Most of Lyon’s larger pieces incorporate gold, silver or copper leafing, which has a grounding effect and provides a shiny contrast to her subdued encaustic hues.  

In Warmth Below, Lyon decided to highlight a root system, an almost perfect mirror of the tree above, with a flurry of crows taking flight from its branches. “I do like the thought of how free they are,” she says of the birds. “It lends itself to the letting go [required of my medium].”

Shouts And Whispers: Man and Nature Pierce the Sky opens with an artist reception on January 16 from 5 to 9 p.m. —

The Marshall Gallery  7106 E. Main Street • Scottsdale, AZ 85251 (480) 970-3111 • www.themarshallgallery.com 

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