Overton Loyd can paint. He can draw. He can do watercolors and pen and ink. He’s designed costumes, stage sets and album covers, and in the early 1980’s he won an award for pioneering computer graphics. “Rhythm of Vision: The Artistry of Overton Loyd” at the California African American Museum through September 18th spans the full range of this versatile artist. The work on display is beautiful, and the spirit it reveals is even more so.
The exhibit opens with a series of acrylics done in the gritty areas around downtown Los Angeles. There’s a recurring group of guys hanging out in the park, a preacher ministering under a bridge, and a friendly (or unfriendly) game of dice. What stands out in all of these is Loyd’s ability to be honest and hopeful at the same time.
“California Dreamers” 2007
The next section features watercolors depicting the same neighborhood. This choice of medium, traditionally reserved for genteel motifs like flowers and beaches, doesn’t feel ironic at all. Instead it conveys tenderness and empathy.
“Nightly” 2007 (photographed by George Evans)
For another exhibit, shifting to a party vibe at this point might feel awkward; here it flows. Portraits of funk legends like George Clinton and Sly Stone have the off-camera intimacy that paparazzi strive for and never achieve. Most people familiar with Loyd know him through his album art —- so curator Vida Brown’s decision to place this section just before the halfway point underscores her point that those legendary works are just the tip of his creative iceberg.
The most accessible pieces on display are the personal drawings and paintings spanning his entire adult life.
In 1971, a 17 year old Loyd found his way into a Detroit bar and drew probably the most interesting guy in the place. It’s hard to believe “Like, Uh” was done by a teenager, it’s so full of knowing. Looking at the drawing, you want to get close enough to hear this guy’s story, but not so close that you get burned by his cigarette.
“Like, Uh” 1971 (photographed by George Evans)
His 1996 drawing of Belita Woods has curls shiny enough for a hair products ad.
In 1983, Loyd illustrated a Ray Bradbury book which is opened to a particularly whimsical page. At the curator’s walk-through on March 20th, the artist described how he “got to draw all these dinosaurs” and his voice was filled equally with reverence and delight.
The watercolors of Overton Loyd’s parents capture precious micro-details — the indents on their temples when they’re about to speak, the barely perceptible squint right before the brow furrows, the weight of the cheeks at the jawline. The subtle expressiveness of these faces is on a par with Roman bronzes.
The exhibit then comes full circle, returning to bold, colorful acrylics. They focus mostly on the festive sides of life — nightclub scenes, couples arm in arm, even a gang member coming down the street doing a warrior dance.
The echoing theme in this exhibit builds to a resounding statement: Beauty is everywhere, not just in the conventionally pretty places. It’s everywhere. It might take work to see it, and it’s worth the effort. This sense of revealing beauty, of recognizing the inherent beauty of life itself, is what marks the artistry of Overton Loyd. He’s an artist in the truest sense of the word. It’s not just his career, or his craft, or even his life’s work. It’s his state of being.
