For Real Marc Rouilland comes out in the daylight. by DAVID HALL The Mississippi River on a Clouded Summer Day. I found the new exhibit at Jay Etkin Gallery, which features riverscape paintings by Marc Rouillard, so enticing that I had to make a return visit. Even though I have long since been a fan of his nocturnes, I am pleasantly surprised by his adventurous forays into daylight scenes and especially tickled with several plein air paintings. Rouillard is one of a growing number of local artists who are pursuing realism in their art to some degree or another. Others examples that come to mind include the erotic figurative works of Adam Shaw, the melancholic canvases of Kurt Meer, Cindy Blair's hyper-realistic depictions of architecture, the portraiture of David Phillips, and the "slice of life" themes in Paul Benkhe's recent work. I would be remiss if I didn't mention Charlie Miller, a truly gifted painter and local treasure who is shamefully underrated. These artists must have incredible tenacity, because in these post-postmodern times, realism is likely to be greeted by ambivalence, if not outright hostility. I am reminded of my own brief period of study in the techniques of 19th-century realism. It was offered as a continuing education class, taught by an accomplished painter schooled in the rigors of the atelier tradition. Its aim was to teach analytical realism, offering a battery of tools and techniques that enable an accurate representation of relative proportions, values, and hues. The class took place in the very rooms where art students painted during the day, and the long-term nature of the study required that we mark the floors and walls with masking tape, so as to establish definitive placement for the following night's work. Seems reasonable enough, but no Several students and faculty didn't appreciate what they perceived as arcane values of art, and some sort of ideological battleground was established in that classroom, so much so that little confrontations started and it wasn't long before the class found markers moved or taken up completely. Tensions continued to escalate and peaked when one of the faculty, in a fit of rage, blurted out something to the effect that our wonderful teacher should be thrown off the balcony. What is it about the practice of realism that engenders such strong reactions? Part of it may be that the notion of a traditional art form that champions absolute values in art -- meaning quite simply, there is a right way and a wrong way to proceed -- is truly considered antiquated. At a time in the art world when anyone who still paints or sculpts at all is likely to be made to feel like a chump, the realist is often viewed as desperately out of touch and, with a snicker, perhaps even quaint. And that perception aggravates the stew out of me. Looking at Rouillard's body of work, it becomes obvious that the refined presence was hard-won by his sustained inquiry and Job-like patience. Not one aspect of this work has been overlooked, and the artist shines in his use of subtle shifts of color and value, his lively yet assured handling of the brush, and a kind of playful confidence in using the medium of oil paint. The mundane subject of the paintings -- barges moving up and down the Mississippi River, the industry along the banks of the same, and bridges -- is so mind-numbingly familiar, yet Rouillard exploits this commonness to great effect. Since the pictures are about nothing that spectacular (some would even say that the depictions of industry are ugly), the viewer is drawn into the painterly feats unfettered by any inclination to interpret them in a narrative way. I think one of the most fascinating aspects of Rouillard's technique is his use of warm and cool hues to breathe life into otherwise gray paintings, as in the case of The River Nocturne: The Evening Star or Moonrise, in which the objects of the dark and murky scene are given definition by contrasting green-grays with blue-grays of relatively similar values. The nocturnes themselves are likely to bring to mind James M. Whistler's investigations of the same theme, and Rouillard mimics some of the master's own depictions of the Thames with Auction St. Bridge in an Early Morning Fog, although Rouillard's painterliness is much more subdued. As opposed to viewing many a venerable painting, I have always favored the energy and raw immediacy of drawings. It is probably why I am so enamored with An Open Air Sketch: Wolf River Harbor in Late Summer. As the title suggests, it was done on site, and it depicts the same scene as the work put on the show's invitation, Wolf River Harbor on a Clear Summer Morning, obviously painted in the studio using photographic resources, as it is rendered with more detail and with what seems like a more calculated approach to color and brushwork. The sketch, also in oil, is 100-percent cholesterol, so much so that the edges where one color meets the next is softened as though dissolved in butter, and the entire picture gleams like greasy bacon. One especially rich passage is where the iridescent gray of the sky and the viridian green tree line are gracefully pulled one into the other, depicting the atmospheric dissolution of objects far away. Rouillard is a little tighter in his handling of the brush in the latter work, and the earthen hues have become much more pungent than those in the sketch, elements that seem to push the picture in the direction of illustration. But even still, it is an impressive work. Rouillard exhibits a body of works that is a testament to his powers of observation and accomplishment of many skills. From my own experiences with training in realism, I know this is no small achievement. There is much to take in, so much so that I doubt whether anyone could give these works their due in just one visit. You can e-mail David Hall at letters@memphisflyer.com. "Marc Rouillard: Recent Work" Through July 29th, Jay Etkin Gallery