Charles  Wince  "BRINGER OF LIGHT" BY CHARLES WINCE AND AARON SCHROEDER Article & photo from Columbus Alive June 28, 2001 Copyright © 2001 Columbus Alive, Inc. All rights reserved.

Body of work Artist Charles Wince returns to Columbus galleries with a mannequin memorial by Melissa Starker America’s latest public art fad started in Chicago in 1999 with a herd of 300 Fiberglas cows. They were displayed around the city before being sold, raising $34 million for charity and guaranteeing copycat promotions nationwide. Last month, journalists were invited to Ohio State University’s College of Human Ecology, home of the historic costume and textiles collection, to witness a Columbus spin on the Chicago cows, the Mannequin Makeover project. Ten artists received bare mannequins, models made by respected New York display manufacturer Pucci Co., and were asked to give the full-sized dolls new life as works of art. The completed pieces will stand in store windows and galleries throughout the summer. In August, they’ll be rounded up for an auction to benefit the OSU costume collection and the Columbus College of Art and Design. Well-known local artists like Ron Arps, Eric Lubkeman and Tim Rietenbach are among the collaborators. The project also features the participation of painter and collagist Charles Wince. Though Wince is an established member of the local art scene, even something of a “bad boy” legend, his name hasn’t popped up too often in gallery listings or exhibition notes of late. Mannequin Makeover is the first public appearance of his art in over a year. Wince’s name ascended with the interest in “outsider” art in Columbus in the mid-1990s. Entirely self-taught, his life and work made for stories that intrigued both print and television journalists at the time (back when local TV news actually featured local artists): Nearly killed in a gasoline explosion at age 10, Wince spent months of painful recuperation focusing on the drawing he’d begun as a hobby. “Sometimes my hand would bleed and being enterprising, I would use the blood to shade and outline,” he stated in a biography. Soon after, a doctor misguidedly put the pre-teen Wince on speed for several years so he could catch up to his peers. By 14, his brain was as burnt as his body had once been. These experiences, combined with bouts of chemical depression and more near misses (another fire as an adult that destroyed his earliest works, a strep infection that almost took over his body), colored Wince with a singular perspective that came forth in his art, an aching awareness of desperation and corruption tempered by a subversive sense of humor. There’s a sense of pleasure and great care in the controlled pandemonium of his paintings, no matter how dark the imagery, marked by awe-inspiring technique, a deep, diverse color range and obsessive, nearly overwhelming attention to detail. Wince’s home is a sort of timeline of his career and the accomplishments of other local artists in his acquaintance. Worked on over 14 years, the walls are filled with artwork by himself and by friends, including the first funny animal painting (a cycloptic cow) by former housemate Paul Volker, who also helped create the brick spiral pattern in Wince’s large yard. Hallways and stairwells are covered with bright, primitive murals by Melissa Vogley. Distinctively shaped, decoratively painted bookcases and tables, lit from within under frosted lucite, illustrate the ongoing collaboration between Wince and sculptor Aaron Schroeder. The Pucci mannequin is their latest joint endeavor. Those familiar with Wince’s style may not expect this piece, a heavenly body called Bringer of Light. Wince kept the clean, minimalist style of the basic form, embellishing it with vivid, airbrushed fuchsia around the head, abdomen and extremities, and the word “secrets” branded in paint above the crotch. Eyes blaze with the help of a strobe light. Schroeder created towering, translucent wings of white, fuchsia and blue, made from individually folded plastic feathers attached to copper wires. A weighted balance and heavy base aid in the form’s motion; at the flick of a switch, the mannequin angel soars in place, her wings’ undulations modeled after eagles’ flight. A halo of pearls crowns the head and a pre-recorded soundtrack (with Laurie Anderson and Tom Waits, among others) comes forth from speakers mounted in the angel’s hands. Text on the speakers and the molded breastbone above comfort the viewer with “It’s OK.” This will be the first piece displayed by Wince since an April 2000 show at 2Co’s Cabaret. On a recent, picture-perfect day, sitting on his back porch with his dog Bubba, Wince explained that the 2Co’s exhibit was a “greatest hits” compilation. No new work was added because he took a break from painting, not completing anything for about five years while he cared for his mother, Mary Ruth, after she experienced a series of strokes. She passed away last year; Wince said, “I’m sure that’s why I chose an angel.” “With my mother dying, I became a lot closer to her,” he explained. He would mockingly call her “Virgin Mary” as a teen because of her strong moral sense and her Sunday school teaching job. “I didn’t know she had a pretty wild youth. After she had the strokes, her ability to edit herself stopped and secrets flooded out.” He was particularly surprised to hear of the lovers she’d had before her marriage. Wince sees some of the basic, consistent emotions his art inspires in Bringer of Light. “The angel itself is eerie,” he said, “but it’s also uplifting, the whole idea of angels in flight.” The dichotomy of these two elements fits with Wince’s new perception of his mother beyond motherhood, as a woman whose spirit would sometimes clash with culture’s expectations. Within a pre-fab concept, over a mass-produced form, Wince has not only given Mary Ruth a striking memorial, he’s found a balance between realism and hope, a way to fit a vision of pure optimism through his sharp, unforgiving eye. He shares it with us in the palms of an angel. “That’s the best message I could ever expect from an angel—It’s OK,” he said. Wince has started to paint again regularly, and says that “less obsession” is the one difference to be spotted between his earlier work and pictures done now. A recently completed piece was just placed in the entryway to Alana’s restaurant. When he’s amassed a substantial body of new work, he hopes to have a gallery show. I, for one, can hardly wait.