Hannah McBeth

Utah is home to an art scene that stretches across the state, with subversive art pockets in unlikely places, but sometimes, Salt Lake City’s presence eclipses work and communities in smaller towns. Just outside of Moab is one such unassuming town, sandwiched between the prismatic Book Cliffs and the dusty railroad tracks—Green River. With a population of just under 1,000, Green River hosts the arts organization Epicenter, whose founders worked in Green River as AmeriCorps volunteers.

Like colorful ensos or organic ouroboros unfurling around black centers, David Rios Ferreira’s collages are circular and dynamic forms, what he calls “imagined gateways, objects through which we may connect with those we cannot reach on this plane.” Accompanied by writing, photographs, and video by Denae Shanidiin. a Diné and Korean artist and the director of MMIWhoismissing, the exhibition Transcending Time and Space at the Utah Museum of Fine Arts in Salt Lake City is the pair’s multimedia collaboration inspired by missing and murdered Indigenous people.

In So That We May Fear Not at Finch Lane Gallery in Salt Lake City, photographer Jesse Meredith documents an American militia group and illustrates contradictory narratives of maleness and patriotism.

“To be an artist, you have to work like a madman,” says Galina Perova, her voice tinged with an intensity that also radiates from her award-winning oil paintings, found in state government buildings, the homes of politicians and influential entrepreneurs, and the University of Utah Medical School. Perova paints in an unusually wide range of genres and with impressive technical skill — a testament to the unrelenting work ethic she’s cultivated since she was a child in the Soviet Union.

Tales about the founding of the artist collective Meow Wolf—now a growing interactive entertainment-arts company—are as legendary as the company’s mind-bending art installations. Meow Wolf’s name came out of a hat, and some of the artist collective’s initial investment came from fantasy writer George R. R. Martin (of Game of Thrones fame). Meow Wolf’s newest art experience is a 52,000-square-foot, otherworldly shopping excursion called Omega Mart, located in Las Vegas’ AREA15.

Getting in the right mood to talk about Mirmsy’s (aka Miriam Barse) art involves borrowing a line from the cartoon cult classic Adventure Time: “C’mon, grab your friends!” Let’s frolic in the upbeat pastels and pop-culture puns that make up the loveable and unique artistry of Mirmsy. Web and graphic designer, jewelry and upcycled clothing maker, and overall jack-of-all-trades, Mirmsy’s wares are the stuff of Instagram impulse buys and unstoppable late-night giggling.

Long before the invention of cameras or computers, paintings and drawings were the only type of “virtual” reality people experienced. While gazing into a work of art, a viewer was transported into a new, imaginary world designed by an artist, with specific goals in mind, to manipulate the senses and produce emotional effects.

Gritty, dark and suffused with a subtle, surreal humor, Levi Jackson’s photographs play on the illusions operating in the Western American landscape and culture. From a black-and-white image of the ground stamped with the phrase “My Name Is Mud” (Untitled, 2014) to a series of photos featuring livestock decoys and other objects wrapped in fabric (including Ms. September, 2014 and Hey, Pilgrim, 2019), Jackson isn’t shy to intrigue viewers with simple but perplexing combinations of objects and med

A face mask on a POC worker, a crying Statue of Liberty, a woman walking through hurricane debris: Vida, Muerte, Justicia / Life, Death, Justice swirls into your mind in a post-pandemic fog. The timely, powerful group show at Ogden Contemporary Arts, on display through Nov. 27, centers on the COVID-19 pandemic through the eyes of an all-Latin American/Latinx artist and curatorial lineup.

When photographer and community advocate Sarah May began learning more about her indigenous, Salvadoran heritage five years ago, it pulled her into a creative dialogue with her roots and helped her claim a deeper relationship with a culture she’s distanced from but still feels an intense connection to. “There is generational heritage that’s been passed down, and part of these people is still living in you. When I create my art, I’m thinking about my relationship with my ancestors,” says May.

If you asked a room of people to list the traits of a leader, chances are you would hear responses that reflect society’s perpetuated myth of a militant hero—a trend Ruth Ben-Ghiat describes in Strongmen: Mussolini to the Present. But the reality is that these “leaders” often break more than they fix, and the aftermath of their reigns are cleaned up by the real powerhouses of our communities: the people who provide medical, nutritional or emotional care. Ashley Finley, Co-Founder of the Black Li

If you’re being followed or navigating a dangerous place, your natural defense mechanisms activate and start tuning. These mechanisms are buried in our mind and body, just as they are in any other domesticated animal. Colors get brighter, movements slow down, and you can shift from terror to fighting mode in a fraction of a second. This is the realm of instinct, where your gut determines if you’re going to run or throw punches — and where painter Andrew Alba reports from, depicting the intense side of Utah in works like “Stray Pregnant Dog in Glendale,” “Running,” or “Rose Park Pozole.” In his latest show, American Soup at Modern West Fine Art, Alba weaves bright red paint, aggressive lines and the symbolism of half-feral animals to depict a world of migrants, laborers, worried women, fighters and other members of marginalized communities.

In 2009, the first Craft Lake City DIY Festival launched with the mission to educate, promote and inspire local artisans while elevating the creative culture of the Utah arts community through science, technology and art. Craft Lake City does this by showcasing locals with exceptional technical skill and promoting regional spending through creative commerce in Utah. Eleven years later, craft fairs and farmers’ markets are now as “Salt Lake City” as mountain views...

2020 has been one of the most widespread experiences of shared trauma in living memory. Every community has experienced a portion of the anxiety and pain, but not equally. The shared experience of the pandemic and recession has given people and institutions long segregated into comfortably distinct worlds a common denominator—and it’s forcing us to witness the impact of disasters on poor communities, especially those of color.

With the disruption to everyday routine caused by the outbreak of COVID-19 and the heavy-heartedness we feel at the loss of our everyday lifestyles, we have to look for ways to work against the coronavirus blues. Looking at an interesting piece of art or talking to a neighbor is a good place to start, according to Kat Nix, Public Art Program Manager at the Salt Lake City Arts Council. The council provides funding and resources for community art projects. The organization is responding to the “St

On Friday, Feb. 28, literature lovers converged to celebrate the opening of the Lightscatter Press. The atmosphere was warm as incandescent bulbs glowed (the type that make millennial hipsters relax immediately like lizards under heat lamps) over Salt Lake art professionals bubbling in conversation. Lightscatter is an arthouse literary press that plans to publish one poetry manuscript per year. They are currently accepting poetry submissions for their first big project.