On Thursday night at Greg Kucera Gallery, two shows are opening. Here at The Stranger, we've made some hay already out of Sherry Markovitz's exhibition, because she's up for a Genius Award, but the second exhibition promises to be completely intriguing, too, and I don't want it to go overlooked. It's sculptures of hollowness by longtime Seattle artist Mark Calderon.

Calderon's title is Nothing Is As Eloquent As Nothing, and I love his simple, direct artist statement:

The works in this show ranges from realistic and figurative to abstract, and they are executed in many different media. Three works are based on the human figure, two represent articles of clothing, one portrays Lake Washington, and some recede into the wall.

As I was working on this exhibition I realized that much of the work seems to be about hollowness. I have explored this idea in the past and am repeatedly drawn to it. Sometimes it is a physical hollowness, but I am also trying to expose a hollowness of spirit, a sense of emptiness or longing.

I regard myself as very lucky and quite happy overall. Yet at times of quiet reflection I can sometimes connect with a profound sadness. Its origin has always seemed mysterious and slightly out of reach of my understanding. I grew up in a family that was not emotive, so as an adult I appreciate the gift of being able to feel emotions deeply. I feel this way even about difficult emotions like sadness and loss.

Some of this work responds specifically to personal losses of the last few years. Other pieces were inspired by recent global events. As in much of my previous work, I have looked to art of the past as I have sought to create a personal expression of these feelings.

Here is a man engaged an endless-shaped self-pleasure that does not necessarily appear pleasurable (look at that stretch in the spine; you can feel the muscles and tendons pulling). He's made of cast bronze and called Ourobouros.

And here is Untitled (hoodie), made of "black spine repair tape," clearly referencing Trayvon Martin. "Spine repair tape" refers to tape capable of repairing book spines, not human spines. The play on words is painful, and again, here is a spine strained, in a different way.

For more information about Markovitz's work and the other Genius nominees, please join us August 7 for the visual art evening of Five Nights of Genius at the Frye.