nonney oddlokken

chatterboxes

jul 1 - 27, 2025

FIRST WEDNESDAY OPENING: jul 2, FROM 6 - 9PM

ARTICULATE ARTIST TALK: SUNDAY, jul 6, AT 4PM.

NORMAL GALLERY HOURS: TUE - SUN, 12PM - 6PM

FOLLOW US AT BRGALLERY FOR UPDATES AND IMAGES!

Oddlokken is a native of New Orleans, whose works have been exhibited throughout Louisiana, the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival,  the Gulf Coast, Oklahoma, and South Carolina, in addition to having work in the Southern Ohio Museum of Art’s permanent collection.

I embarked on what I’ve come to call a mental residency—a yearlong creative freefall with no map, no destination, and no defined outcome. In the past, my work followed a disciplined ritual: research, narrative-building, careful sketching, and finally the intricate labor of stitched storytelling. My practice was structured, meticulous, and purposeful. But this work ? This one lived on my "Luxury Bucket List”—an indulgent, almost forbidden idea: What if I simply let go? What if I walked into my studio and allowed my curiosity and ADHD to lead the way?

So, I did just that. I let go of direction. I gave myself permission to wander. I taught myself new techniques—gel printing, bookbinding, paper sculpture, and digital collage using Procreate. I filled the days making 8-page booklets, one after the next, with no plan, no plot, just instinct. It felt like skipping stones across a wide, wild river—sometimes they soared, sometimes they sank—but I kept throwing. I was completely out of my comfort zone. Unmoored. And yet, something in the unpredictability felt necessary. Liberating. As if the discomfort itself was part of the process. At first, it was joyful chaos. But then, the world outside grew unbearable. The presidential election shook me deeply. I turned inward, diving into creative rabbit holes not just for fun, but for survival. I spent up to 17 hours a day chasing ideas—sometimes obsessively, sometimes distractedly—clinging to beauty and absurdity as a way to shield myself from despair. One fascination led to another. And another. I was building a world I could stand to live in. Still, there was fear. Letting go of structure—trading outlines for whim—was terrifying. What if I got lost and couldn’t find my way back? What if there was no “back”? But something deeper told me to keep going. That if I followed the threads long enough, my creativity would lead me somewhere true.

And then it happened. I came across a vintage Life Magazine ad: a porcelain-white woman in a floral swim cap, floating blissfully in a pristine, blue-tiled pool. I stopped cold. Is this what “Make America Great Again” means? Because that vision—idyllic, exclusive, whitewashed—was never great for everybody. My thoughts spiraled through decades of advertising, idealized Americana, staged Camelot fantasies. I thought of Tommy Hilfiger spreads, the Kennedys on sailboats, the curated illusion of innocence. But my America—my New Orleans, my lived reality—is more Flannery O’Connor than Eisenhower-era fairy tale. I’ve never set foot on a yacht, never brushed elbows at the Kennedy compound. And those who did try to bring about real progress? Too many were silenced. Assassinated. By the very people clinging to that glossy, selective dream of “greatness.”

So from this wandering, this wild inner journey, I offer you,

CHATTERBOXES: Scrolling W/ Squirrels and White Rabbits

This exhibition is presented alongside the latest works from April Hammock, Marcus McAllister, & Hye Yeon Nam. All works from these artists are on view, free of charge, during regular gallery hours (12 - 6 p.m., Tue - Sun) from July 1 - 27, 2025.

works on view