Mark Gleason: Nowhere Here

October 5–November 16, 2o24

In Nowhere Here, Mark Gleason explores the liminal space between the tangible world and the surreal, where literal and symbolic collide. Here are dreamscapes populated by solitary figures, each suspended in a state of anticipation or motion that feels both immediate and eternal. These figures inhabit desolate, barren terrains that extend into the distance like fading memories or half-remembered dreams. In this vast emptiness, they find themselves in dialogue not only with their surroundings but also with the inexplicable and absurd forces that permeate existence.

Gleason’s paintings are a quiet confrontation with both the self and the world around us. Often stripped of overt context, his figures become vessels for meaning, their bodies contorted into positions suggesting both struggle and grace. Stones, chairs, animals, and crowns appear as recurring symbols, elemental in their simplicity yet loaded with connotations of power, burden, and the ephemeral.

Many of the works capture a delicate tension between balance and collapse. Figures, their bodies straining under unseen forces, evoke a sense of the Sisyphean, where labor and perseverance become metaphors for human existence. Yet, amid the existential weight, there is an underlying sense of optimism—the figures persist, the stones are still borne, the match is still lit. This delicate line between struggle and hope is the animus of Gleason’s work.

The hypnagogic atmosphere saturating these paintings encourages us to step beyond the literal and into the symbolic. In Kingdom of What, for example, a man, crowned in paper, cradles a fragile insect as if in communion with something beyond himself—a symbol of the transient nature of life and the solemn responsibility of holding something delicate. Meanwhile, the empty landscapes become more than just settings; they are psychological spaces, vast and unknowable, reflecting the inner states of both the figures and the viewer.

This body of work ultimately invites the viewer into an active role, to imagine their own place within the scene. As we confront the figures’ isolation, their seemingly nonsensical gestures, and their quiet persistence, we are invited to reflect on our own internal landscapes. Through Gleason’s dream-like vision, Nowhere Here becomes an exploration of what it means to exist—not simply in the oft-complex and mysterious physical world around them, but also in the ever-shifting terrain of human consciousness.