New Art Examiner

"Pollards”
Natalie Wadlington at Library Street Collective, Detroit
January 20, 2024-February 21, 2024

by Marissa Jezak

Down a spacious, adorned alleyway in the heart of Detroit sits, tucked away, a dreamy portal into a world of effervescent, moody nostalgia. “Pollards,” an exhibition of paintings, drawings, and sculpture by Natalie Wadlington, currently on view at Library Street Collective, is the New York based artist’s second solo show with the gallery. The title references trees and agricultural maintenance practices, framing the work as it connects to ideas of nature, animals, growth, and interspecies relationships.


Installation view of “Pollards” on view at Library Street Collective. Courtesy of the artist and Library Street Collective. Photo by PD Rearick. 

The six large paintings are distinguished by their soothing shadowy tones and complementary color palette of rich oranges and violets. Also present in the space is a small series of graphite drawings (preparatory sketches for the paintings) clustered together salon-style on the wall, and a lifesize—but not exactly lifelike —ceramic dog near the front of the room. The color in the gallery pulsates— a large yellow wall displaying a painting parallel to the entrance. The surrounding white walls and tiled white floors accentuate this brightness, bouncing the light back onto the artworks, highlighting their textural details and indigo glow reminiscent of blacklight. The works in this show are inspired by moments from the artist’s youth. In her paintings, Wadlington conveys a strong sense of isolation and heightened emotional experience through the use of distorted perspective and intense, highly saturated hues.


Dog in Crate, 2023. Ceramic, 24 x 36 x 24 inches. Courtesy of the artist and Library Street Collective. Photo by Tim Johnson.

Throughout the show there is a common thread as we see a girl interacting with a dog. The same dog seems to appear in multiple works, including a sculpted ceramic form inside a cage on the gallery floor. In this sculpture, Dog in Crate, the animal’s head is tilted toward the sky, gaze upward, eyes wild, with its mouth wide open in a yearning stance. Is it panting, begging for a treat? Whatever the case, the locked cage suggests it won’t be getting anything unless its owner decides so, a nod to the complex relationships between humans and pets, centered on dependence and dominion.

In the painting Bridge in Park at Night, a lowkey moonlit scene shows a girl walking her dog, while it wraps itself around a wooden post, hot on the heels of a skunk. At the same time, a bird splashes in the creek below. The warped perspective distorts our perception so the actual dimensions of the figures are unclear, making them seem more similar than different in size. A tiny house in the distance provides a sign of human life. However, this particular piece seems to draw our attention more to the world of the animals, and the dog’s desire to act out its instinct as the owner holds it back, sheltering it from impending danger.


(Left) Bridge in Park at Night, 2023. Oil on canvas, 72 x 60 inches. (Right) House by Highway, 2023. Oil on canvas, 72 x 60 inches. Courtesy of the artist and Library Street Collective. Photos by Tim Johnson.

Conversely, a hectic summer day is depicted in the warm tones of House by the Highway. In the foreground, a girl lounges, sunbathing next to a tipped over glass of what looks like lemonade, or maybe juice. She’s in her own world, while behind her, excitement ensues. Cars go by on the freeway, and behind a chain link fence, two dogs ravenously bark and chase after two birds in the sky. A tire leans up against the fence as a little field mouse runs by. While this resembles a somewhat mundane afternoon, the isolated, heavily outlined figure of the girl draws the viewer into her mental space—carefree and unbothered amongst the golden fields of grass.


Swing Bench. Oil on canvas, 40 x 40 inches. Courtesy of the artist and Library Street Collective. Photo by Tim Johnson. 

Arguably standing out from the other paintings, Swing Bench includes a similar female character to the rest of the series. B ut rather than a dog, she is paired with a pet cat that evokes the illustrations of Louis Wain. Sitting alert, with intense eyes, it enjoys being petted while perched on a patio chair that is imaginatively rendered on a vertical plane parallel to the canvas. A toad is positioned in the grass in the background of what looks like a backyard, while the focal point is the girl, slightly contorted on the swing. A curved wide-angle view embodies the square canvas, and several mosquitoes buzz around. A dead bug defeatedly floats in a half-full drinking glass, and another one bites the girl’s leg, perhaps prompting a visceral response—feeling that itch, sensing that annoying buzzing sound in the ear…

Throughout the exhibition, repeated details create a consistent flow amongst the works. For example, the thickly applied textures on blankets and other objects in the compositions give the canvases a sense of added dimension and almost tactile feeling. Characteristics such as the dramatized colors, floral-patterned dress, and replicated iterations of the dog, allow for a smooth transition from one painting to the next, like snapshots from a family album—except the album is in your head, and no one else is there. Wadlington’s compositions leave the viewer in an ambient state of contemplation as they trigger in us connections to our own faraway adolescent memories and encourage us to thoughtfully ponder the ethereal narrative presented before us.

This exhibition was on view at Library Street Collective from January 20, 2024–February 21, 2024.


Marissa Jezak (b.1992, Harrison Township, MI) is an artist and writer based in Detroit. She earned a BFA in photography and critical theory from the College for Creative Studies in 2014. Marissa Jezak’s writing has been featured in publications such as Detroit Research and Runner, and she has exhibited artworks internationally. Her ongoing research focuses on illness, trauma, and gender politics.

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