Lucky Gut

Lucky Gut artist reception. Image Credit: Maria Cavazos

Lucky Gut at The Gather House

by Rose Miller

Intimate. That’s the way I would describe it. Lucky Gut sits in the back of a small building on Fremont, tucked behind a crystal shop in The Gather House in downtown Las Vegas. The gallery-white walls are filled with artworks that read and feel like memories on display. It’s a showcase of many artists working in diverse mediums focused on the intuition of the artist, the pull of instinct.

The exhibition is presented by the collective Scrambled Eggs, and the curators (Pedro Duran, Alexys Keller, Isaac Quezada, and Sol Ortiz) have ensured that you don’t walk around the gallery floor alone. Quezada’s LUCKY (He don’t bite), a paper mache creature, is the first piece to greet you as you enter. Despite the promises made on the label, Lucky’s sharp teeth protrude from orange lips open in a wide smile. Lucky has his own presence, like he would respond to his name if called. He sits dutifully in the center of the room, keeping his many eyes on both you and the artwork.

Isaac Quezada, Installation view of LUCKY (He don’t bite), paper mache, 2023

The works in the exhibition carry the weight of memory, a mix of sweet recollection and reality. On the center of one wall is a poem by Harrison B. Nuzzo; Grandpa’s Sweet Potatoes teaches us how to throw a punch—the violent act of “sinking a fist / into another boy's face”—though the person guiding the author is almost gentle. The author is not remembering the taste of the potatoes, but instead the crush of his hand in his grandfather’s, the twist of his body as he is taught to survive. The instruction to “let go” is in conflict with the subject's instinct to “hold fast.” The end of the poem bleeds onto the floor, where melting candles surround the text. It becomes an altar, speaking to lessons learned and the everlasting impact of those who do the teaching and of growth and reflection.

Other pieces are given that memory haze through other means. The trio of acrylic paintings by Mariah GW are blurry snapshots of domestic life. There’s a distance between the artist and the subject of the paintings. Objects like a suitcase, stuffed toy, and stovetop seem to substitute a human figure that stands obscured by the composition. It’s familiar, the way these scenes play out in fragmented moments, as if the brain cannot help but forget the important details. Alongside pieces like Tű madre by Sabrina Solis, a colorful collage of depictions of toys and cookie jars and gummy bears, a theme of childhood emerges.

Sabrina Solis, Tú madre, Mixed media on canvas, 24” x 30”, 2023

The photo prints by Maria Cavazos are something like a narrative, although it doesn’t feel linear. They are about birth but it’s also about the body. A figure clutches and holds their stomach (or, perhaps, their womb). There is the squish of the skin as the fingers press into it, and then the release as the hands return to their side. The pairing of these black and white photos with full color images of the bloody aftermath of a water birth invokes something both beautiful and visceral.

There’s a tension present in the photos that is found in other moments in the show, such as Claire Leticia’s digital drawing Growing Pains. Here, however, the artist does not relieve the tension. Instead, we see the soft flesh of the subject’s stomach pierced by the unbending spines of a cactus and bleed. The placement of the hand gives us the impression that the pain is self-inflicted, or at least that the subject does not flinch away from it.

Claire Leticia, Growing Pains, digital drawing printed on canvas, 30x24”, 2023

A sort of yearning flows through the exhibition in artworks like Brian Martinez’s A Dream Deferred, and @1.29.00’s Beautiful Feeling. Martinez’s mixed-media piece combines a painted cut-out of a soccer jersey with a sculpted pair of cleats and a soccer ball with irregular segments. The small scale of the shoes and jersey makes me think of the memorabilia of a childhood dream, postponed but never forgotten. The word “deferred” in the title is a promise that one day the artist will return. Beautiful Feeling is another multimedia piece; a collage of smiley face stickers, small bows made of ribbon, and lipstick stains pasted on top of an abstract background with text. The piece is completed with a light pink frame. The text reads: “I feel the most when I’m laying on your chest and I can hear your heartbeat.” @1.29.00’s work softly expresses the sense of connection between the subject and the object of their affection.

Lucky Gut is a space that rewards sitting with each artist’s work and the installation as a whole. It’s a small room where the pieces press into you. The places that the artists are pulling from—their desires, their histories, their pain and love and bodies—create an exhibition that is raw with honesty.

When I leave, Lucky sees me out, still sitting patiently at his post with a friendly smile.

Lucky Gut installation view. Image Credit: Maria Cavazos

Lucky Gut, at the Gather House
1020 E. Fremont, Las Vegas
October 6-13, 2023
Curated by Pedro Duran, Alexys Keller, Isaac Quezada, and Sol Ortiz
Presented by Scrambled Eggs

Rose Miller is an art student at the University of Nevada-Las Vegas. You can find Rose on Instagram @chainlink_roses

Images courtesy of Scrambled Eggs @scrambledeggsxyz

Posted by Ellie Rush and published by Wendy Kveck on December 21, 2023.