sleep,
dream, divide
constructed paintings by Erik Railton
PokerFace, 128 SW 3rd Ave., 294-0445
May 6-June 2
opening
reception 7:30 pm Thursday, May 6
Last fall Erik Railton planted a row of bulbs at the edge
of his front yard. This was his first attempt at growing tulips.
In April, a line of bright red-, yellow- and orange-headed
flowers rose triumphantly out of the loam, trumpeting toward
the sky.
To say Railton has a green thumb is putting things much
too simply; for whether he is fixing the plumbing, making
ambient music with his brother, Evan, skateboarding or being
a truly good Christian, Railton has the necessary skills.
"Whatever he does, he just puts his head down and figures
it out," says Railton's dad, Jerry.
Lately, Railton spends a lot of time alone developing his
greatest interest: painting. At 23, with virtually no formal
training and without the backing of a gallery or the aid
of a dealer, he is the reigning champ among painters who
show work primarily in cafes and restaurants. Since January
of 1998, he's never gone more than three months without
a show. His work has graced the walls of Oasis Cafe, Vincente's
Gourmet Pizza (twice), Flying Saucer Cafe, the now-defunct
Tank Gallery, Pizzicato on East Burnside Street, the downtown
Borders, Morning Star Espresso and La Cruda. As an artist,
Railton is doing the nearly impossible: crafting a career
outside the appointed houses of display--schools, galleries
and museums.
 He's
doing it with an unlikely mix of hustle, moxie, talent and
business acumen. Moreover, he possesses such earnestness
and humility he can even put you at ease while discussing
God. His brand of Christianity is non-invasive, as far from
Bible-thumping as can be. He truly embodies the ethos of
doing unto others as they would do unto him. Railton's hands
flicker with small, silent gestures as he talks. His face
is roundishly handsome. He's had a few girlfriends, but
tired of them after three or four months. He favors T-shirts--blue
or black--and jeans loose enough to skate in. Railton would
be among the last guys you'd notice at a party, but he's
the one you'd be hanging out with at the end of the night.
Railton attends a non-denominational church every Sunday,
but on Saturday nights he is often out catching a rock,
pop or punk show. Indeed, music--from the loping, introspective
sounds of bands like Tortoise and Aerial M to alt soulmasters
the Make-Up to pop boy-wonder Beck--is an unequivocal influence
on his work. A piece can be shaped, in a manner, by what
he is listening to as he works. "I think we're at a point
in society where a lot of us can do what we want and maybe
make a living at the same time," Railton says. "Our culture's
at a point when it needs something more abstract--you turn
on the TV and you get the same thing every time. Everything's
open now. There are no genres."
Using primarily $2 brushes, house paints and oil paints,
Railton borrows greens from olive trees and military fatigues;
his reds and yellows appear squeezed from tulips. Abstract
forms sigh and slope across three-by-four-foot canvases.
"I love house paints. They're so flat," Railton says. He
sounds like he's about to embark on a discussion of color
theory but then concludes, "They're so cheap, too, so anti-painting."
Though his first public showing was only 16 months ago,
Railton has been able to develop his art quickly, in part
because he can leave his day job whenever he wants to paint.
He and brother Evan, a drummer in the local band Pep Squad,
formed Railton Properties in 1997 with their parents, Jerry
and Pam. The four buy, remodel and fix houses, then sell
them and move on to the next job, sharing the profits. The
sons live in the houses while the repairs are underway,
usually spending around five months in each home.
In the basement of his current Southeast Portland home,
Erik Railton works on canvases he mounts on a wood wall.
There is no natural light in the small room; the only window
was painted over by a prior tenant. Three bare bulbs spray
sharp light at 180 watts. Brushes and dollops of paint cover
a table, making its surface look like that of a strange,
distant planet. The sparse setting underscores Railton's
impervious determination. 
There is further evidence of his drive: While vacationing
in Hawaii he returned a call in order to sell a painting
for $150 (a typical price for his early paintings); he has
vigorously promoted his own shows; and he often delivers
paintings to buyers in person, and graciously accepts invitations
to stay and chat a while. "I don't think art should be that
exclusive," he says. "I want people my age who don't make
much money to be interested in it."
Railton has a way of involving others in his interests.
Two hours after meeting me, he hands me a scribbled note
listing bands he thinks I might like. "Music to check out,"
he's written at the top of the list, gently coaxing me.
The next time I see him he's made a mixed tape for me, containing
many of the bands from the list.
"When I paint, I do want to make something beautiful, but
I also want to push out against what is considered art,"
Railton says. Toward this goal, he draws on many disparate
sources for inspiration: contemporary artists Mark Gonzales,
David Aron and Twist; jazz musician Charles Mingus; boxer
Sugar Ray Leonard; Japanese photographer Hiromix.
In short he is turned on by "people who've changed the
world, even a little bit, even by, you know, just playing
jazz music." Out of this confluence of styles, Railton's
ideas come through with a clarity and consistency rare for
a young painter.
Local musician Chad Crouch knows Railton's work intimately.
Crouch was the first person to buy one of his paintings,
paying about the cost of two CDs for a small canvas he saw
hanging at the Oasis Cafe. "I had no experience with shows,
so I was excited to sell anything," Railton remembers. "I
was like, 'Whoa!'"
Crouch also remembers his first contact with Railton. "He
has a vision, a sort of continuity that you don't see in
a lot of emerging artists," says Crouch, a painter himself,
who is still friends with Railton. "His work is kind of
quirky. I like his limited color palette, and it was affordable."
The story of Railton's first days of anti-painting--working
cheaply, with little guidance and no rules--is as rife with
symbolism as a Biblical tale. Soon after graduating from
high school and moving to Portland from Cannon Beach in
the mid '90s, Railton enrolled in an introductory painting
class at Clackamas Community College. The class taught Railton
the basic principles of color and composition, but little
else.
By the class's conclusion he was still more likely to skate
than to paint. But around this time his left knee mysteriously
began swelling whenever he exerted himself. Finally, a doctor
identified a piece of chipped bone floating loose in Railton's
kneecap--he still doesn't know how the bone chipped. Orthoscopic
surgery effectively removed the chip but made skateboarding
impossible during his five-month recovery. Railton suddenly
had a lot of time on his hands. He occupied them with brushes.
Now he is readying 12 pieces for a First Thursday reception
that will kick off his May show at the downtown PokerFace
clothing store. Many are part of his latest experiment,
what he calls 3-D structure paintings. These are made by
mounting cut-and-painted Masonite onto square pieces of
wood, which are then pasted onto larger sheets of Masonite,
achieving the popping effect he desires. Railton is now
reconciling his DIY attitude of making art affordable and
accessible with the understanding that he may soon be able
to ask higher prices. Pieces at PokerFace will range from
about $200 to $250.
"I'm trying to make my way up, doing less cafes, more galleries
and getting my work seen outside of Portland," he says.
"I think that's a natural progression. I've been doing cafe
stuff for a while now, and soon I'd feel like I was just
walking in a circle."
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Willamette Week | originally
published May 5, 1999
|
