Does Neil Horsky lament the spiritual crisis in our species? Not really. He thinks we can be saved, and that we are worth saving. If you disagree, like I did, go see the work he’s put into untangling this question. Maybe he’ll convince you otherwise.
Horsky has been a prolific creator as he attempts to define what he considers the state of our spiritual future. Here, at Grove Gallery in Walker’s Point, are his zines, a noisy soundtrack, loose posters, and framed work defined as sets with thematic through-lines. There’s plenty of classic Dada and Fluxus fodder, like conceptual puzzles and limitations, that factor into Horsky’s process. Often interrelated, not often clear, there a moments when the simplicity is deceptive and the meaning of each image can be read in shallow interpretations or after one has plunged into a depth that seems to come from beyond the images. There is value in wandering and in gravitating towards what naturally holds your interest.
At “Can We Talk With Spirit Friends?” the viewer has plenty of opportunities to find something worth a closer investigation. Over the course of a half hour conversation, Horsky weaves through topics of history, music, art, the image, dreams, games, instructions, politics, the uncertain future, and humanity’s ancient mysteries.
Neil Horsky, “Can We Talk With Spirit Friends?”
According to the artist, nature had an idea for mankind. But we’ve veered quite far away from the original intent—so far that we’ve stumbled into an existential quandary: proceed as we see fit and risk spiritual decay or return to the natural balance that was inherent in the original plan for our species. Horsky sees only two ways forward for mankind: evolve or go extinct.
Shuffling through the work in the show, you begin to feel the logical continuity he employed when executing this series or that series. It isn’t obvious, but it does become clear the more one investigates the images. Deeper meaning—that is, any meaning you distill from these flattened collages and found images, many of which float against blank backgrounds—can be discerned over time as the figures and their orientation to one another on the pages gain or lose context.
“Within our own lives, we are allowed moments of growth and transcendence on the timeline we have as individuals,” Horsky says. “But as a species, we’re gonna need to get there pretty soon. Otherwise, we’re shit outta luck.” He digs through the stacks and pulls out “Cost of Force,” a collection of ancient human mysteries paired with artillery and weaponry. Visually, they are like totems, kindred objects and symbols stacked atop each other. For some, it might be difficult to relate ancient relics to contemporary tools of war. But that depends on if you are an optimist or a pessimist.
If you see the show in person, you will see collaged images from a range of source material that all contain, more or less, three elements: An illustration, a diagram, and a caption. A swimsuit model jams a stick into a model train beneath the words “Recognize A True Threat.” Another snarls at the camera with roller skating men between her breasts. This image declares “Make A Friend of Fear.” Some of these characters are so static and stiff but rendered elegant or harrowing in an approximation of reality, fantasy, dreams. Musicians play but nobody dances. A figure supports seven more on his shoulders without buckling (another totem). A wormhole creeps into their lives. So does the infinite.
Neil Horsky, “Winning”
When it comes to artistically and visually grappling with concepts like the state and of human spirituality across the arc of time, it’s best to pare a medium back to only its essential matter. It is also necessary to make as much work as possible, as Horsky appears to do quite easily, in order to express the themes. “The Trauma of Civilization” introduces us to seamless collages presenting instruments against images from pivotal moments in human history. There are bombs exploding behind a saxophone, a dainty triangle to add a barely registered percussion to the slaughter of native creatures. And throughout all these images, spiritual gains and transgressions reverberate like a refrain to accompany all our unbalanced bullshit.
Is evolution, then, a kind of devolution, a return to the basics of the earth rather than an escalation into the stars? Maybe the question is its own ouroboros—where the macrocosmic and the atomic end up being indistinguishable. Spend time on these questions in the gallery—what better place?—taking deep dives into themed collections and listening to the accompanying playlist. Maybe the spirit friends will find you, and maybe they’ll talk back.
Neil Horsky’s “Can We Talk With Spirit Friends?” is open now at Grove Gallery. The gallery is open to the public noon-4 p.m. on Saturdays. The show closes on March 28.
Neil Horsky, “Sup”
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