Under Control: Shawn Mishak at doubting thomas

Photo by Shawn Mishak.

Before 2025, Shawn Mishak’s most recent solo show took place at Brandt Gallery in 2008. So for the last decade and a half, Mishak has been best known for putting together exhibitions of other people’s work, especially at doubting thomas gallery—notably his multi-year project built around the classical elements, earth, air, fire, water, and spirit—and also for his long-running band, Kid Tested (which plays May 17 at the 5 o’Clock Lounge). But he has continued to make art, too, and for the first time in 17 years presents a solo show, Controlled Abandon.

The works fall into about four distinct categories. There are photos of doorways, photos of urban walls, what Mishak calls “resin work,” which is collage given depth of dimension by the layering of poured resin, and finally sculptural works. There is actually a fifth category—a single painting. Presented by itself, its role seems to be to represent that aspect of the artist’s output: by the way, he does this, too.

Photo by Shawn Mishak

The photo prints each relate to styles of work or even bodies of art familiar to anyone who pays attention to visual culture. Doorways, for example, are commonly photographed as variations on a theme. There even are posters made from dozens of Georgian doorways that can be seen during a walk around Dublin, and other handsome styles in other places. But Mishak goes for doorways of Cleveland in varying states of disrepair, use and neglect. Doors are inescapably symbolic: they both lead to spaces and keep people from them. In this exhibition there are no “doorways”—implying open doors. These doors are all closed, though that doesn’t seem to be the point. Some of them are doubly closed—that is, in addition to being closed they are further barricaded by plywood, or by steel accordion gates. That seems to be getting closer to the point.

Photo by Shawn Mishak

The title of the exhibition seems to relate to that specific detail: Controlled Abandon. The phrase typically refers to behavior: a musician might play with “controlled abandon,” implying some care-freedom that is managed within guidelines. That is in opposition to reckless abandon, which might imply a greater or complete disregard for the boundaries. The title isn’t “Controlled, Abandoned,” which works in a different way, specific to those barricaded doors—as if access to abandoned property were being controlled via locked steel gates and board-ups.

Photo by Shawn Mishak

At first glance Mishak’s close-cropped abstract images of walls have a lot in common with the boarded-up doors. In these Mishak also captures the urban palimpsest of plywood, layers of paint, and siding in decay. But these don’t have any overt symbolism, and the focus isn’t a central, functional or dysfunctional feature, and not even the decay itself so much as the color and texture. These are really about abstract composition. Photography like this can be an endless pursuit, finding order in the random urban decay, making it about the division of space more than the passage of time, or the conditions represented. It is a completely different way of relating to the urban landscape than the symbolism to be found in the doorways.

Collage by Shawn Mishak, cut paper with resin

Mishak’s collage with resin is the most labor-intensive pursuit in the show. To make these, the artist cut images from magazines and other sources, placed them in the frames, covered with resin, placed more cut-out images, poured in more resin, repeating as many times as his composition demands. These seem to create scenarios, or to imply some narrative: they always involve people, always cut from their original context, juxtaposed with something completely different. In one case a young boy is the dominant figure, looking vaguely toward a dripping bottle of Tabasco sauce and away from what seems to be a televangelist holding a microphone in one hand while his other rests on the forehead of a woman, as if to heal her. There are a dozen other enigmatic details.

Collage by Shawn Mishak, cut paper with resin

In another frame, a seated man looks and holds his hands toward the camera—two tomatoes in each hand: cherry-sized to the left, and big beefsteaks to the right. Below him to the right, there’s a ‘70s era TV console with an unidentified woman on screen. Above that the Statue of Liberty, turned 90 degrees, invades the frame from the right. Asked about the symbolism of different elements, or the implication of storytelling, though, Mishak says they don’t have special or even specific meaning. They tell no story. They are simply in place for compositional reasons. It’s a wholly different manner of composition from that in the abstract close-ups of walls—created rather than found in place, assembled rather than extracted by cropping, with figures rather than without—but the idea of composition is a connection between these works and the photos.

Shawn Mishak, Last Rights, found object sculpture.

Last come the sculptures. Each of the sculptures seems to pursue its own direction. In one piece, a decaying stick, mounted vertically on a platform and coated with resin, seems to be melting into a pool of more resin. Another – a circular plate covered in cylindrical forms, set at angles and cut at angles, and all painted gold—looks like a crystalline form. It could be that, or it could be pure abstraction. The angles slightly evoke Constantin Brancusi’s Endless Column. But try to connect any of those ideas with those of a third sculpture in another room–a found object transformed: a crucifix with a built-in candle holder for vigil candles is slid open to reveal a candle storage compartment, which Mishak has filled with bullet shells. The title, in this case, carries a lot of weight: Not Last “rites,” but Last Rights. As in gun rights.

When an artist goes 17 years between solo shows, it’s no wonder a range of different ideas and executions—each represented by bodies of work—show up. With a bit more development of the individual pursuits within this show, each of them—the doorways, the close-up abstractions, the resin work, the sculpture—could be a coherent exhibition of its own. Maybe Mishak won’t wait so long for the next one.