It was the early 1980s, and Robb Dunfield, 19, was ready to celebrate the first night of summer with his friends in Vancouver’s Spanish Banks.
Looking for a high spot to watch a flotilla of tall ships in the dimming light, they climbed up to the third floor of a condo under construction, and were ready to settle into an unfinished balcony.
The two-by-four that was the railing, attached to the skeletal building by two nails, gave way as his two friends put their weight on it.
In a unique mixed media collaboration shown at the Bass Concert Hall, Jared Dunten and Marty Butler challenge the viewer to intimately experience their journey that began under the big skies of West Texas. A journey both crushing and liberating that still continues today. The two cheated death and began their fight against paralysis.
April 2000 Jared and Marty were on a backpacking trip in Big Bend National Park. After several days of hiking in the Chisos Mountains they sought refuge in the tiny border town of Boquillas Del Carmen. A snap decision by Jared to dive into the Rio Grande River left him paralyzed. Marty had saved Jared’s life.
April 2009 A collaborative show is created that spans the nine years since Jared was paralyzed. These works chronicle the event that changed their lives and reveal where they are today.
Enjoy the art and maybe even find a piece you would like to own. Many of the originals I have hanging in my own home. In them I find peace, inspiration and encouragement as I make my way through the arduous journey to recover from paralysis.
I will overcome paralysis. I will paint myself out of this wheelchair.
Hollenstein uses his front and rear tires, swirling bright and sometimes hot colored paint in patterns, lines or circles. There is a rhythm, a sort ofsyncopation in color. Once he lays down a tone, even just a smallpatch, he stops to hose off the tires, lets the first paint dry thenadds a new layer. A single painting may take several weeks to complete,and may have as many as 50 layers of paint.
On Jan. 9, Mark Wagner was a runner and skier, a man in perfect physical condition. He was a flight captain with US Airways. He was a husband, father to two small boys and part owner of the Stockyards restaurant in Phoenix.
On Jan. 10, a hunting accident changed everything.
It wasn’t a gun that did it, but the impact of a gravel truck hitting the car that Wagner, his father-in-law and his wife’s uncle were riding in on a hunting trip in Nebraska. The truck hit their vehicle broadside, catching Wagner in the back seat.
The other men have recovered from their injuries, but Wagner suffered a spinal cord injury that has left him a quadriplegic.
For years Chuck Close has reduced faces into paintings and prints of shorthand data: Noses become dots and dashes, eyes dissolve into a mosaic of circles and squares. Disabled by a spinal blood clot that left him wheelchair-bound 15 years ago, he is quick to dismiss those frequent comparisons of his art to digital shorthand and eye-popping pixels.