A Journey Through John Paul Kesling’s Work
Work by Anna McKeown
Full of vibrant color and deep meaning, our current exhibition Dear John: Goodbyes, Portals, and Paths not Taken at The Bankers Alley Hotel matches the intensity of a southern summer.
Summertime in The South is blistering heat, days that feel like weeks, and humidity that you could cut with a knife. Bullfrogs sing in the evenings and lightning bugs (yes lightning bugs not fireflies) perform their synchronized flickering at dusk.
But this story starts in the bitter cold of winter, in January 2025.
Cold and gray and full of tough conversations and nights spent alone for the first time in many years, this winter felt like an arduous journey for me.
After a long day of de-installing our winter exhibitions, I headed out to Madison, TN for a studio visit with John Paul Kesling, an artist who has lived in Nashville for over a decade but was, in his words, raised “in Northeastern Kentucky in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains.” It was a bitterly cold day, and getting colder as the sun was setting. I’m an extrovert, but that particular day I felt the heaviness of my lonely winter. Imposter Syndrome set in as I walked toward the front door, my inner voice telling me that despite knowing the names of each piece I wanted to view, despite reading about his work, and despite having a strong curatorial style, I was actually a fraud. Thankfully, I was born and raised to have theater kid energy so I forced myself to knock.
John is a prolific artist who had two other solo shows the same month we installed his exhibit at Bankers Alley Hotel. I had been familiar with his work, viewing his painting at Red Arrow Gallery in the past, and was drawn to his expressive style. When he sent his list of available works I felt like a kid in a candy store, an apt description for how I often feel when I look at artwork that I like. I get the sensation that I want to ingest the work somehow, like I want to eat a piece of artwork—a decadent feast of confections was before me.
I knew his work was colorful, but being immersed in it was a completely different experience. I was surrounded by electrifying color, glitter, expressive brushstrokes, and it was the first time in months that I had felt inspired to create artwork of my own. My eyes watered with the joy that comes from feeling creatively full. I was transported out of my winter and into the promise of summer.
I gleefully imagined where each piece would hang on the walls in our Second Floor Gallery at the hotel. Moving each piece around in my mind, arranging the works like a puzzle, is my favorite part of the curation process.
We talked for a long time about his work and his process and the thing I appreciated even more than the vibrancy of his work was the strength of his storytelling within each piece. While his paintings are full of vibrant color, most of their stories have to do with grief. His works often depict figures that seem to hover above the ground, restless and unmoored. Circles that look like portals hover at the top of his paintings, at times dark and ominous and other times light and ghostlike. A ghost hunter might call them “orbs.”
Looking at his work you get this feeling of uncertainty, like you don’t know what is about to happen. This isn’t always ominous, but it does create an uneasy feeling in the viewer.
He told me about the loss of his brother, his relationship with his family, his fascination with energy and where it goes when we die. What happens when things end?
Summertime in The South is blistering heat, days that feel like weeks, and humidity that you could cut with a knife.
He suggested “Dear John” as the title of his exhibition, and I agreed. The nature of goodbyes, portals, and paths not taken are strong themes in his work. He moved back to Kentucky this March, so this exhibition felt like an appropriate send off. When listening to him talk about his work I began reflecting on my own harsh winter—my own goodbyes.
How does one say goodbye? Slowly, over the course of many years, graciously with affection, or suddenly and unexpectedly?
People never truly leave us, whether it is a move to a new city, the end of a relationship, or the passing of a loved one. Perhaps there are other realities where, if a different path were chosen, everything would be different today.
But here I am on this path, and I feel lucky to be climbing these mountains, crossing these rivers, and resting in these valleys.
Dear John will be available to view at The Bankers Alley Hotel’s Second Floor Gallery through July 2025.
