The Familiar Made Strange: John Buck’s Uncanny Landscapes
There’s something deeply unsettling about landscapes that feel both recognizable and utterly alien. John Buck’s exhibition, Mont Blanc on Wood, at Zolla / Lieberman Gallery in Chicago, is a masterclass in this paradox. Personally, I think what makes Buck’s work so compelling is his ability to take the ordinary—a desert, a lighthouse, a grove of cacti—and twist it into something that feels like a half-remembered dream. It’s as if he’s captured the essence of those moments when reality seems to glitch, leaving you questioning whether you’re awake or still asleep.
The Landscape as a Mirror of the Mind
One thing that immediately stands out in Buck’s pen-and-ink works on wooden panels is the way he blends the familiar with the uncanny. Take Cactus Grove (No. 13), for example. At first glance, it’s just a desert scene—but then you notice the way the cacti seem to stare back at you, almost as if they’re sentient. What this really suggests is that Buck isn’t just painting landscapes; he’s painting states of mind. The desert isn’t just a place; it’s a metaphor for isolation, resilience, and the strange beauty of survival.
What many people don’t realize is how deeply personal these landscapes are. Buck’s work is rooted in folklore, memory, and daily observations, but it’s also a reflection of his own eccentricities. His anthropomorphized plants and dramatic rock formations aren’t just whimsical—they’re a window into his psyche. If you take a step back and think about it, every artist’s work is a self-portrait in some way, but Buck’s landscapes feel particularly intimate. They’re not just places; they’re emotions, memories, and questions rendered in ink and wood.
The Humor in the Absurd
A detail that I find especially interesting is Buck’s use of humor. In Lighthouse (No. 18), a lighthouse stands in the middle of a desert lake, its beam shining onto arid, rocky landforms. It’s absurd, yes, but also deeply poignant. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Buck uses humor to underscore the contradictions in our world. The lighthouse, a symbol of guidance and safety, is utterly out of place—much like how we often feel in our own lives.
From my perspective, this is where Buck’s work transcends mere craftsmanship. He’s not just creating beautiful objects; he’s inviting us to laugh at the absurdity of existence while also confronting its deeper truths. His art is a reminder that life is often a strange mix of the comical and the profound, and that’s okay.
Craft as a Vehicle for Storytelling
Buck’s choice of medium—pen and ink on wooden panels—is no accident. Wood, with its grain and texture, adds a layer of warmth and history to his work. It’s as if the landscapes themselves have a past, a story to tell. In my opinion, this is what elevates Buck’s art from mere representation to something more narrative. The wood becomes a character in its own right, grounding the surreal elements in a tangible, lived-in world.
What this really suggests is that Buck is as much a storyteller as he is an artist. His landscapes aren’t just static images; they’re invitations to imagine the stories behind them. Who built that lighthouse in the desert? Why are the cacti staring back? These questions linger long after you’ve left the gallery, turning the viewer into an active participant in the narrative.
The Broader Implications: Art as a Reflection of Society
If you take a step back and think about it, Buck’s work isn’t just about landscapes or personal memory—it’s about the human condition. His juxtapositions of the familiar and the uncanny mirror the way we often feel in our rapidly changing world. Are we in control, or are we just actors in a surreal play? This raises a deeper question: What does it mean to be human in a world that increasingly feels like a dream—or a nightmare?
From my perspective, Buck’s art is a commentary on our times, though it’s never heavy-handed. He reflects on environmental concerns, social realities, and the eccentricities of human behavior, all while maintaining a sense of humor and craftsmanship. It’s a delicate balance, but one that he pulls off with remarkable skill.
Final Thoughts: The Power of the Uncanny
As I reflect on Mont Blanc on Wood, what strikes me most is Buck’s ability to make the uncanny feel intimate. His landscapes aren’t just strange; they’re strangely familiar, like fragments of a shared dream. Personally, I think this is why his work resonates so deeply. It taps into that universal feeling of being both at home and out of place in the world.
What this really suggests is that the uncanny isn’t just a literary or artistic device—it’s a fundamental part of the human experience. Buck’s art reminds us that the line between the familiar and the strange is thinner than we think, and that’s both unsettling and beautiful. If you’re in Chicago before August 8, I highly recommend experiencing this exhibition. It’s not just art; it’s a journey into the heart of what makes us human.
