Art of the State 2025
Art of the State 2025
Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities
6901 Wadsworth Boulevard, Arvada, CO 80003
January 16–March 30, 2025
Admission: Free
Review by Madeleine Boyson
Picture it: Arvada, Colorado, on a clear but frigid day. The sun shines on Sprawl (2024), a formidable yet shrewd steel sculpture by Stephen Shachtman near Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities’ front doors. Just inside, Jodi Stuart’s spritely Arc (Extruded) (2021)—a welcome salutation—greets visitors and the filtered afternoon sun. The cultural center currently has a juried exhibition on view that aims to provide “a comprehensive overview” capturing “a wide scope of art from across the state.” And remarkably, the show succeeds.
Stephen Shachtman (Fort Collins), Sprawl, 2024, corten steel, 108 x 144 x 96 inches. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities.
Art of the State 2025 is an heroic triennial exhibition of contemporary work now on view through March 30, 2025. Filling Arvada Center’s galleries with an impressive breadth of media, styles, formats, textures, colors, locations, forms, and subjects are 148 artworks by 145 artists, whittled down from a staggering 2,503 submissions by 911 artists. Jurors spent over a month finalizing the checklist. [1] And though only about six percent of submissions made it into the final exhibition, Art of the State 2025 provides one of the most exhaustive synopses of contemporary art in Colorado so far this decade.
Jodi Stuart (Denver), Arc (Extruded), 2021, 3D pen-formed ABS plastic, flex foam, and pigment, 192 x 72 x 24 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Faced with such bounty spread over two large floors and three gallery spaces (Arvada Center usually shows multiple exhibitions at once), visitors might sensibly be overwhelmed by the exhibition’s prospects. Furthermore, though Director of Galleries Collin Parson and his team have loosely (and informally) grouped works by prescriptive genres or forms, viewers must observe throughlines according to their unique movements in the galleries. Nothing coheres the exhibition except the Call for Entry guidelines: submissions must be created within the past three years, must not have previously been shown at Arvada Center, must maintain size specifications, and, most importantly, must be made by artists residing in Colorado. [2]
Sherry Wiggins (Boulder) and Luís Filipe Branco, Cleopatra with a Snake and a Cigarette, 2023, archival digital print on Hahnemuhle photo rag baryta paper, 37 x 25 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
But all of this is to Art of the State’s credit. Parson’s hands-off curatorial approach leaves room for unanticipated themes and connections to spring forth. Sherry Wiggins and Luís Filipe Branco’s fearsome Cleopatra with a Snake and a Cigarette (2023), for instance, might not otherwise pair with Firestarter (2024) by Gregory Santos, but both draw on legacy to create fresh perspectives.
Gregory Santos (Denver), Firestarter, 2024, screenprint, 19 x 15 inches. Image courtesy of Gregory Santos and Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities.
The former turns famed Cleopatra into a smoking elder in a decidedly modern twist while the latter combines 1980s and 1990s science fiction and fantasy in an expertly screen-printed comic. Both works beg for backstories.
Margaret Kasahara (Colorado Springs), Notation 24-24, 2024, security envelope (American Express), pencil, artist’s hair, and thread on rag paper, 3.625 x 3.625 inches. Image courtesy of Margaret Kasahara and Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities.
Paulina M. Johnson (Steamboat Springs), Moment of Silence, 2024, paper on edge, 33 x 18 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Similarly, Margaret Kasahara’s linework in Notation 23-24 and Notation 24-24 (both 2024)—meticulously crafted on security envelopes with pencil, hair, and thread—echoes the subtle majesty in Paulina M. Johnson’s Moment of Silence (2024). While Kasahara revels in orderly abstraction, Johnson creates a grayscale landscape by affixing paper strips on edge (a technique known as “quilling”). Each claims beauty in repetition.
Madeleine Adair (Littleton), leaf pile, 2024, copper and brass brooches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Rhiannon Alpers (Denver), Tracing Outlines, 2022, artist book, 5.5 x 3.75 x 1.5 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Deborah Davis (Longmont), Tiffany at Selby Gardens, 2024, handwoven tapestry, 17 x 20 x 5 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
It is also refreshing to see more than the usual media and materials in Art of the State 2025. Alongside oil and acrylic, photography, print, and sculpture are under-appreciated jewelry, artist books, and tapestry. Madeleine Adair turns brooches into an autumnal treat in leaf pile (2024); Rhiannon Alpers stuns with the scrupulously bespoke Tracing Outlines (2022) artist book; and Deborah Davis defies the laws of fabric in her tapestry Tiffany at Selby Gardens (2024). [3]
Maeve Eichelberger (Denver), Tropicana, 2024, hand-formed acrylic, 28 x 14 x 16 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Among the more unique materials is the hand-formed acrylic in Maeve Eichelberger’s tiny saddle titled Tropicana (2024). The saddle’s seat, gullet, cantle, cantle, flap, and stirrup are joined with dozens of painstakingly crafted pink and green rosebuds, all of which emit a dreamy, yet unnerving vibe.
John Bonath (Denver), The Tea Party (models Randy Rushton & Sabin Aell), 2023, print on canvas, handworked with oils and gels, and mixed media installation. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Remarkably, even PEEPS® marshmallow candies make an appearance in John Bonath’s multimedia installation based on the artist’s image of Randy Rushton and Sabin Aell in The Tea Party (2023). The print (hand-worked with oils and gels) shows Randy bathed in pink and Sabin in blue, a defiance of twenty-first century gender stereotypes. [4] Yet the two colors appear to leak out of the canvas and the sitters’ pores, tumbling onto duo-chromatic teacups, flora, and table settings. Pink and blue PEEPS® lie dead in mousetraps, partake in unidentifiable liquids, and sprout unnaturally from the walls.
Justin Price (Loveland), The Tendency Towards Social Equalization with the Desire for Individual Differentiation and Change, 2024, oil on raw linen, 42 x 40 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
It is this confidence present in Bonath’s installation that epitomizes Art of the State 2025, elevating it beyond just any juried show. Whether oil on linen—as in Justin Price’s The Tendency Towards Social Equalization with the Desire for Individual Differentiation and Change (2024), which features Batman in a Charlie XCX “brat” t-shirt—or burdock burrs on metal—as in Erin Lucey’s stunning and uncanny Luminous Form No. 4 (2024), a lamp-like form knitted together only by burrs—each work feels indicative of its maker’s own voice.
Erin Lucey, Luminous Form No. 4, 2024, burdock burrs and metal form, 20 x 14 x 9 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Though jurors Jane Burke, Chris Herron, and Collin Parson are still choosing this year’s “Best in Show,” second and third places, and honorable mentions (as of this writing), it is impossible to walk away without a few favorites, a list that changes with each visit. And though the options are endless, making it futile to give each work in Art of the State 2025 its due, several works do stand out.
Kristin Anahit Cass (Superior), Salpi and Nancy in Flight, 2021, archival digital print, 12 x 18 inches. Photo: Madeleine Boyson.
Irene McCray (Longmont), Not Here, 2023, oil on canvas, 60 x 36 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Kristin Anahit Cass floats her two subjects high above the orange terrain in Salpi and Nancy in Flight (2021). Irene McCray’s Not Here (2023) brings Alzheimer’s into the hyperrealistic light through the hands and covered face of the artist’s mother.
Gayle Gerson (Grand Junction), Greenhouse Gathering, 2022, mixed media collage under resin, 12 x 48 inches. Image courtesy of Gayle Gerson and Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities.
In Greenhouse Gathering (2022), Gayle Gerson layers image transfers and photos to create a “slightly eerie atmosphere” that draws in any passersby.
Al Canner (Boulder), Aspen Grove, First Light, 2022, knotted cords of cotton, hemp, nylon, and polyester, 38.5 x 23.5 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
Jeff Gipe (Arvada), Who Controls the Present Controls the Past, 2024, photo collage on archival backlit film (lightbox), 27 x 40 inches. Image courtesy of Jeff Gipe and Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities.
Al Canner’s Aspen Grove, First Light (2022) relies on knots to simulate tree trunks and celebrate our forests, while Who Controls the Present Controls the Past (2024) by Jeff Gipe takes the viewer back into Colorado’s dark history of Rocky Flats, located just northwest of Arvada.
Haley Hasler (Fort Collins), Eve / The Fall of Man, 2024, oil on canvas, 60 x 48 inches. Photo: Madeleine Boyson.
Eve / The Fall of Man (2024) by Haley Hasler brings together a portrait of the artist’s daughter inspired by several periods of art history.
Dana Senge (Mancos), Migration, 2023, ceramic, 37.5 x 53 x 27 inches. Image by Madeleine Boyson.
And Dana Senge’s Migration (2023) unsettles the movement inherent in migration with a static clay wall, the result of which is nearly as lively as any murmur of birds through the air.
An installation view of the Art of the State 2025 graphic by Parker Grote from Lakewood’s Warren Tech High School for Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of Arvada Center for the Arts and Humanities.
Rather than echoing a haphazard conglomeration of works by disparate artists, Art of the State 2025 is an exhibition that showcases some of the most exciting contemporary works in Colorado today. Visitors would do well to devote time to each floor, listening to the dozens of audio artist statements, and finding gems in each room while they can. Look for new towns represented. See Warren Tech High School student Parker Grote’s logo pasted proudly out front. Revel in the approximately 75% new artists compared to recent Art of the State exhibitions. Because in three years, it’ll all be completely different.
Madeleine Boyson (she/her) is a Denver-based writer, poet, and artist. She holds a BA in art history and history from the University of Denver and makes her living as a communications and editorial coordinator and arts writer.
[1] The jurors are Jane Burke, Executive Director at Union Hall and Chris Herron, Interim Associate Museum Director at Kirkland Museum of Fine & Decorative Art alongside Arvada Center’s own Director of Galleries and Curator, Collin Parson.
[2] During the years 2022, 2023, or 2024.
[3] The author would like to state for the record her belief that the category of “fine art” is Western colonialist nonsense designed to denigrate women and non-white male artists and their work. We still have a long way to go in valuing what has traditionally been named “craft” as “fine art,” but working towards equity in media ultimately creates equity in other areas of the art world.
[4] Gender stereotypes about pink and blue were opposite over 100 years ago. David Brooks, “Pink and Blue,” The New York Times, April 22, 2011. Op-Ed. archive.nytimes.com/brooks.blogs.nytimes.com/2011/04/22/pink-and-blue/.
