Charles Ladson, Painter

I own a painting by Charles Ladson. He’s a true son of the South and three years ago, when my family took on a southern winter address, I felt I needed to live with part of that heritage.

I found Ladson’s work at one of those “too slick to really like” galleries in Asheville which itself has become too trendy to be real. Asheville car bumper stickers read “If you’re too weird for Asheville, you’re just too weird!” But that’s not true exactly because while there are some really cool people who live there, others are simply trying too hard. Scratch the surface and they’re Republicans. I never did see Andie McDowell who’s supposed to live there running errands in her SUV wearing no makeup and blue jeans even though I stood on a few street corners looking but I did find Charles Ladson’s paintings.

The painting I bought shows a negro male half-figure sitting under an umbrella  - except that it’s not clear if the figure has legs so I’m not sure “sitting” is the correct descriptive – peering out across the landscape.  The landscape itself has lots of strange shapes and doodles that could be almost anything and if anyone is given to making up stories to accompany strange paintings, Ladson is your guy!  Even if you’re not, his use of color and shape and texture is beautiful and I like them (the newest ones) even better after learning that his day job in Macon, Georgia, is restoring old houses.  There’s a broad hint of geometry and rusticity in these works. I’ve fallen in love with nearly anything recycled and I like that he works those elements into his imagery.

Ladson has a one-man show currently on view at that too-slick-gallery and they kindly mailed a catalog to me. Lovely photographs are spread throughout and a couple of very learned (meaning: obscure artspeak) essays “explaining Ladson’s motivation, etc.” I have come to truly hate such nonsense.  These things are written to impress…..? The rest of us can feel further alienated from work that should be appreciated from the gut.

Ladson himself writes “My work is a collection of mostly bad ideas…the paintings ramble along in all directions then they arrive. People see what they want…”

Amen, brother.