Entangled: Leigh Ann Hallberg’s Phenoms
Phenoms at Reynolda House consists of 12 works in two iterations, each part of an ongoing series. Measuring 52” x 52” x 4” and created with watercolor, graphite, and metal leaf, they are supported on wooden armatures. Leigh Ann Hallberg started the series in 2017 when she wished to break away from “routine yuck” to seek greater engagement with the less-human world, even the cosmos. Hallberg's Phenoms constitute a significant portion of a large body of interrelated work that spans artist books (In Memoriam, Tangles, Bags of America), 3-D works and sculptural-installation projects (Murray Bay-Standing Wave, Core Sample, Revenants, Portable Contemplation Cube), graphite drawings, often in series (Cereal Bags, Trees, Somatic Memories), and durational paintings (Accretions).
Parts and wholes
Lola needed to be walked. Walking with a dog is a small universe of purpose. Amid the overarching scope of life's persistent demands, Hallberg embraced the daily walking ritual on the Reynolda grounds linked to Wake Forest University, where she teaches art. In the rhythm of paws and feet on earth, the pattern of breaths and heartbeats, she took stock of the fragile threads that bind us— “fragile” because they are constantly in flux, dependent on our subjective interpretations, emotions, and the context of our surroundings and endangered by hostile energies. Those threads represent the fine, often unnoticed details of our engagement with the world and with others, highlighting an interconnectedness that is becoming increasingly invisible.
Hallberg referred to her tandem movements with Lola as her phenomenological walks—distinguishing them from ordinary ambulations—because they emphasized setting aside distractions and preconceived notions to concentrate on how the immediate perception of sights, sounds, smells, and textures contribute to a unified experiential whole. It is intriguing, albeit infrequent, to move through the world in this heightened state of awareness. Typically, we only become cognizant of the elements of our experiences when something is absent or amiss—such as the lack of the familiar aroma of popcorn in a movie theater lobby or the silence of insects on a Sunday night in the backyard. In other words, we rarely recognize wholeness or entirety until something is gone.
The setting is not a backdrop. On these walks, the universe is stitching itself together and Hallberg, along with her paintings, makes up a part of the ongoing fabric. The genesis of the Phenoms originates from the meandering pathways in nature, yet they resist being confined as mere reflections of specific occurrences or terrains.
Vincent Van Gogh once told Emile Bernard, “I exaggerate, sometimes I make changes to the subject, but still, I don’t invent the whole of the painting. On the contrary, I find it ready made, but to be entangled in the real world.”
Identity in the manifold
Each Phenom is an open-ended exploration, lacking a defined horizon or specified entry point. The viewer recognizes an artistic reflection of the natural world but remains unaware of anchoring details such as time of day or geographic location. That is just information. These paintings offer a respite from mere data. They disrupt normative expectations. Each one is distinct, seamlessly merging diverse perspectives while also underscoring the interconnection between knowing and feeling. In one painting, circles act as a grid. In another, twin metallic entanglements hover in tandem. Some of the paintings float, some are tethered, some muddier, some leafier, some appear cold. You can tell they all come from the same mother.
Hallberg describes herself as "pre-digital," indicating her grounding in artistic practices that predate the digital age (and nods to her preference for working with hands over technology). However, the Phenoms remind us how deeply digitization was influenced by woven images. This connection highlights the continuity between past and present, showing that digital imagery, with its pixelated structure, parallels the intricate grids and patterns found in traditional weaving.
Her visual vocabulary includes the grid–or what she calls “the grid of the sublime.” The grid represents order and framework while simultaneously embodying the infinite possibilities of interpretation that arise from personal and collective experience. In that sense, her work becomes a conduit for exploring how the physical-sensorial and the conceptual intertwine.
While the journey towards the sublime defies simplistic binaries, there exists a certain imperative in embracing the inner compass that aligns with a childlike, unencumbered way of perceiving life. We can choose this way of being or we can remain stuck in a holding pattern, or in a dark corridor leading nowhere. Hallberg's paintings invite viewers to let go of preconceived notions and immerse themselves in the sensory experience her work evokes. The phenoms encourage a return to curiosity and wonder.
To re-engage with wonder is to embrace uncertainty, which, in turn, provokes us to question the deeply entrenched structures of power and perception. This mirrors the intricate dance at the cellular level—signaling, reception, binding, and unbinding—until new pathways emerge. It begs the question: what is the delicate balance between change and homeostasis? Hallberg often contemplates how symmetry embodies transformation. As the mathematician Ian Stewart points out, a circle is symmetrical because you can rotate it around its center by any angle; every point moves, yet the circle remains unchanged. Ultimately, you can effect change without changing anything.
As an artist, especially one comfortable within abstraction, Hallberg has long been suspicious of language and its failure to capture “the real.” While studying Jacques Lacan’s three categories: the real (unknowable), the symbolic (language), and the imaginary (consciousness or what the subject believes experience to be), she realized that this tripartite approach encapsulated our inability to grasp the "whole picture," that an overarching perspective isn’t possible... And, as she likes to joke, this is coming from a person whose first words were “see pretty”.
Presence and absence
There’s a kind of art where the artist seems to hover over you—they’ve crafted each detail intentionally, shaping your experience in a way that makes it clear how they want you to engage with their work. Sometimes this can be a good thing, but most of the time it feels too controlling. Hallberg’s work does the opposite: they invite and provide entry, even potential guideposts. For example, the interplay between, depicted elements and abstraction, metallic sheens and watercolor washes that introduce a dynamic contrast, capturing light in a way that suggests both the ephemeral and enduring aspects of nature. Yes, the mix of media and tones creates a visual space where the natural world is both familiar and mysterious. But it doesn’t feel like there is a prescribed way to understand the “Phenoms.” They function more like semi-permeable membranes—inviting some ideas and feelings in while filtering others out.
During Hallberg’s process of making the Phenoms, she relinquishes a certain degree of control to let them come into their own. For instance, she introduces a variety of salts onto the paper, which repels the pigments in the watercolor, evoking unforeseeable patterns and formations. Occasionally, ropes and nets coated with paint are placed upon the paintings, marking the shifting image with their textured imprints as a lasting tribute to their brief sojourn.
“You see something, and you find it beautiful,” she explained to me in her studio. “You want to—not capture it. You just want to feel it.”
Deeper awareness ≠ definitive conclusion
At times, it feels like we’re birds confined within a building, searching for an exit. We flutter about, colliding with glass, our eyes questioning the existence of the sky beyond. The narrative often revolves around clashing visions of an ideal world—where certain events occur or where they don't. When looking at the phenoms, I hear this: I want to dwell in a world where—. Simply, where.
Veronica Kavass
8/9/22024