Neon is one of those noble gases that hangs out looking sexy and drinking cocktails around Group 18 of the periodic table while the other gases sweat in the kitchen, cooking. Representing the fantasy-inducing family of neon, argon, xenon, krypton and helium gas, each with its distinct qualities and color, “neon” is usually captured in glass tubes that have been bent into artful shapes, then stimulated by currents of electricity until it glows. The bright lights can be seen from great distances—perfect for desert casinos—or through windshields streaming with rain in dark northern cities, where the comforting pink and ultramarine glow of the international sign for cocktails is a beacon of hope for the weary traveler.
Travelers making their way through downtown Santa Cruz might stop in their tracks at Elm Street, where a wild procession of colorful illuminated lines and curves marches toward the door of the Felix Kulpa Gallery. “And Then There Was Light” features works by 15 neon artists including local neon guru Bruce Suba, the instigator for this exhibit and most things neon in the region. He also currently exhibits at the Museum of Neon Art in Los Angeles. Here, one of Suba’s crackled domes of crackling electricity enlivens a corner while an elegant wooden fixture provides the architecture for In the Out Door nearby, with twitchy lightning spiraling from one aperture to another. Not far away, Snake In by Larry Albright, whose work illuminates theme parks worldwide, confines a long spark within an elegant dome-bottomed beaker for a hypnotizing meditation on energy.
The challenge of bending fragile glass tubes into complex shapes intrigues such artists as Roger Daniells, whose freestanding Cube is a Picasso-esque evocation of a figure. Blake Shaw’s Clothes Make the Man draws a continuous white-glowing outline of a touring car encased within a small coffin. Kazumi Svenson’s Ranchu is a playful koi in orange and white leaping off the gallery wall, while Michael Flechtner’s Seagoat, a giant multicolored shark, swims above the heads of gallery visitors. Stephan Krasner’s Reach is more poetic: beneath its plexiglass surface, a fuzzy growth emanates in pink and violet blue; a circular orifice reveals a worrisome cluster of spikes; a hand is gradually distinguishable from the chaos within as it reaches out to touch the surface. Never mind; nearby one of Brian Coleman’s cheerful lightworks stands as a tour de force of glass blowing and bending using multiple noble gases for their distinctive colors. This Bell Jar Magic is one of a dozen Coleman pieces that help make “And Then There Was Light” a delight. Felix Kulpa is open late Thursdays and Fridays to show off the wares. Read more of The Exhibitionist at kusp.org.
