Mike Pare

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Mike Paré's large-scale graphite renderings of counterculture crowds—be-ins, protests, guerilla theater—communicate both the hope and desperation of the 1960s; the social upheaval and communal bliss. It is the timelessness of the depicted events, rather than their commemoration, however, that most interests Paré. Though decades have passed, the ideals that were cultivated then continue to sprout and grow. Free love may have collided with mob violence at Altamont, but it didn't end there. And the divisions that fractured the cause—Women's lib, ethnic pride, the ecology movement—are now treasured as special interests. "Baby boomers put down the hippy shit all the time," Paré points out. "But they use it for cred when it's convenient." Hence his scenarios are not about nostalgia. His editorial eye is infused with the continuity of human emotion.

Up close Paré's involved pencilwork appears to be groups of scratchy lines —"fuzz" as he has described it. It is only when we take a step back that the image comes into focus. Then and only then, as looking back in hindsight, are we able to see the whole picture—the long-haired protesters chanting; the crowds of young people milling about in beads and moccasins. They lie on lawns passively, or form lines of dissident defiance.

These themes—rock concerts, Yippie sit-ins, and folk festivals—are familiar territory for Paré. What are new here are primarily formal concerns. Florescent-pigmented objects have begun to hover above the action. In Pentagon (2004), the heaviness of that ominous shape—a rhomboid representation of The Man—weighs over audience members. A group of peaceniks sits Indian-style in Together We Can Do This (2004), as if patiently awaiting something as elusive as change. Geometric green lines are superimposed above the gathering, expanding outwardly, eliciting a sense of psychic space outside the journalistic plane. "I'm not afraid of confusing the viewer, by making forms that don't make sense in the image," admits Paré. "I am interested in those ambiguous areas where the photo images cross over the forms and your eye finishes the image for you. I like confusing work like that."

As the show's sole sculptural entry, three life-sized wine jugs sit on a raised plinth. They appear to be solid graphite or lead, but on closer inspection reveal themselves as actual wine-filled vessels "drawn" with a pencil into a three-dimensional form. The piece's title, "The Weight Was So Heavy (We Put it Down) (2003) may refer to the enormous responsibility of '60's idealism, but, given the "sharing" characteristics of the jug form, could also be a comment on more personal responsibilities inherent in one-on-one relationships.

Paré's simultaneous forward and backward reflections examine a time when gatherings could quickly turn from celebrations to wakes. Though today we may feel removed from the days of students being gunned-down by government troops, the distance, Paré demonstrates, may be deceptive. In Gnostic Clouds (2004), amoeba-like vapors mingle amongst a group of intense sitters, as if their drifting ideas have somehow taken on a physical presence. In the top corner, hand-drawn capital letters read, "We Live In Rome!" A clue or perhaps a warning.