See Rich Bowman’s “Tempered Land” before his show closes

%{[ data-embed-type=”image” data-embed-id=”” data-embed-element=”aside” ]}%

%{[ data-embed-type=”image” data-embed-id=”” data-embed-element=”aside” ]}%

Rich Bowman’s “Tempered Land” is more than just a sunset. Magmatic red reaches like a crimson hand across the canvas, extending cloud fingers as dark as ash. Black land anchors the painting, and above the dramatic light is a pale, serene blue — violent dusk turning to gentle night.

The painting’s size, little more than 5 feet by 5 feet, helps make the scene and its colors overwhelming. Up close, you see the flat marks of a palette-knife applicator, the tool that has created the illusion of swift and dangerous light. Absent the feathery strokes of a common brush, the colors of cherry and slate sweep across in highways of hard lines. Where the merciful blues and yellows of the docile sky meet the billowing clouds above, the applicator changes again: Soft blends of pink and ochre deepen the sky and round out the mighty clouds in the foreground. Neither of Bowman’s tools dominates the other.

There’s nothing rare about a painting of a sunset or an artist’s rendering of clouds. But “Tempered Land” still feels daring, its bright, unashamed reds and dark blacks cutting through any conventional prettiness. And in the open space of the Blue Gallery, which lets you breathe from one painting to the next, the balance between typical scenic wonderment and atypical color and paint application leverages genuine emotional force. Stand a bit away from Bowman’s “Tempered Land,” and you begin to imagine yourself perched atop a hill, admiring a natural event that still generates a shivery power.