Elizabeth Bergeland

"Over and Out," Oil on canvas, 60" x 60", 2022

An elderly man sits on a nondescript white block; his expression and posture are pensive and tired as he hunches slightly forward.  A thick line of sea foam green has been painted across the wall behind him; it runs right across his seat, his shins, and his dangling hand.  His immovable state is palpable and heavy, and I myself become immovable as I grapple with the questions this 60” x 60” oil painting, “Over and Out,” conjures. Who has painted over this man as though he wasn’t there?  What does this bulldozing gesture mean for his life? This is the power of Elizabeth Bergeland’s poignant symbolism. Coming from a background in illustration, Bergeland imbues provocative meaning into surreal compositions of scorching sunburns, brimming bowls of cereal, flaming pant legs, and threads of neatly tied yarn—all poised to provide introspective insight to the willing viewer.

In her most recent solo show, “Quiet Boy”, the artist created a series of nine portraits, all close male friends, the oldest portrayed in “Over and Out.” Taking shape around frustrations with the archetypal males attributes, this series gained full momentum and purpose when she noticed her nine year old son suddenly stifling his affectionate nature. After carefully planning, purchasing and wrapping gifts for his friends, he panicked at the last moment out of fear of rejection, and didn’t give the gifts he prepared. Intuiting the forces at play squashing her son’s loving nature, Bergeland set out to confront this societal expectation. Conducting long interviews with each of her subjects, Bergeland began to notice common themes: the constantly reinforced sense of worth defined by financial stability, the lack of permission to express fear or sadness, and the socially acceptable jokes about “small dick energy.” We have known for a long time how toxic masculinity hurts women, but it hurts men too, and arguably in more insidious ways.

“Portrait of a Man on Fire,” oil on canvas, 2022

In Bergeland’s “Portrait of a Man on Fire,” a more relaxed man might never be captured—hands in pockets, slouching in a lawn chair with a facial expression of unconcerned stoicism; And yet a flame coming from his pant leg tells us something’s not right.  By placing her subject in an imagined space of an orange ground and yellow backdrop, the artist implies that this surreal environment is a place of the mind, a cage of society’s making, one we have all contributed in building.  She doesn’t merely flip the script as so many artists have done, she turns it inside out.  Rather than using her reclaimed power for exploitation, she uses it for a narrative of compassion.  While the male gaze seeks to control, Bergeland seeks to liberate; the male gaze objectifies, she humanizes; the male gaze reduces women, while she gives men permission to be more than society has allowed. 

Since this most recent body of work, Bergeland has taken an introspective turn in her painting. Leaning on the wall of her studio is her latest work, a large horizontal portrait in which she has painted multiple renderings of herself in the various stages of falling. “I’m so ill-equipped to even be here,” says the fair-skinned artist, referring to our planet. A theme of sunburn repeats throughout several works, conveying Elizabeth’s howling frustrations with her humanness.  Each of her bodies is covered in awkward sunburns from watches, shorts, sunglasses, and sandals.  Chickens are strutting around every version of her, pecking at her vulnerable bodies.  Above the painting are two strips of lime green tape where she has scrawled the words “paint faster” and “text faster.” The urgency and overwhelm of those words ooze out of this psychological narrative. Elizabeth described a sign she plans to insert into left side of the composition (or the beginning of the timeline): an arrow that says “you are here”, as if to say, “This is your lot. You cannot escape your circumstances, and the only way is forward.” 

Elizabeth Bergeland’s studio, work in progress

So what is forward for Bergeland? How does the sunburned falling narrative end? Don’t hold your breath for the answer—this artist probably won’t give it. Leaving room for viewers to have their own experience of the work, Elizabeth offers evocative images as signposts—a psychological window into one’s own life. By painting deeply personal portraits of herself and her friends, and embedding them with powerful metaphors, Bergeland makes herself an ambassador of vulnerability. Pouring her inner dialogue out onto the canvas through a bed of grapes, an arrow, and massive blades of grass, she holds up a mirror to us that we might see how these images and objects metabolize our own consciousness.  What is hidden in your gut, yearning to break free?  An Elizabeth Bergeland painting might help you find out.

To learn more about Elizabeth’s work and practice visit ElizabethBergeland.com or follow her on Instagram at @elizabethbergeland.