Here's an interview from artist Adam Hall about his upcoming show with us here at the gallery titled The Interim.
THE INTERIM: living in hope instead of certainty. Exploring the temporary period between one thing ending and another beginning. It isn't the departure, and it isn't the arrival. It's the uncertain space in between. The paintings place the viewer right at a threshold. There's frequently something behind them and something ahead of them, but very little resolution. They're held in the Interim. Maybe the interim isn’t simply the part we endure until the next thing happens. Maybe it’s where a lot of life is actually taking place.
1. What sparked this body of work, and why did you feel compelled to make it now? The Interim really came out of thinking about how much of life is spent in between things. We tend to focus on where we’ve been or where we’re trying to get to, but there’s this huge middle space where we’re not quite either version of ourselves. I realized a lot of the imagery I’ve been drawn to lately already lives in that space. Figures looking toward something they can’t quite reach, distant shorelines, waves, diving boards, open landscapes. There’s often this sense that something is behind you and something else is ahead, but you’re caught somewhere in between. I think that feels especially relevant to me right now. As I enter new seasons, I’m becoming more aware that those periods of uncertainty or transition aren’t necessarily something to rush through. They’re a huge part of actually being alive. There can be tension there, but also wonder, anticipation and hope. I like the saying “Living in hope instead of certainty” This body of work became a way of sitting in that unresolved space for a while rather than trying to find the answer to it.
2. What ideas, emotions, or questions were guiding you while creating these pieces? I think I kept coming back to the question of what it means to be somewhere between what was and what’s next, and whether we can actually be present there without constantly trying to move through it. There’s a tension in a lot of these paintings between stillness and movement, comfort and uneasiness, fear and hope.
3. How does this work connect to—or depart from—your previous practice?I think this body of work is more of an evolution than a departure. A lot of the imagery is still very much connected to what I’ve always been drawn to: water, distant landscapes, anonymous figures, and these moments where someone seems to be standing on the edge of something. Looking back, I think the idea of the interim has actually been present in my work for a long time, even before I had language for it.The Interim feels less like moving away from my previous work and more like recognizing a thread that’s been running through it all along. There are fewer figures in this body of work. There are ladder rails leading into open water, waves with something barely visible in the distance, city lights across the horizon, and places where you feel like you're looking from one space toward another. In a way, the viewer becomes the figure. You're placed at that threshold, looking out and wondering what is on the other side. That connects naturally to a lot of my previous work, which has dealt with memory, time, presence, and our relationship to place. But with The Interim, I think I'm more interested in the space between those things. There isn't always a clear destination or resolution. You're just there for a moment, somewhere between where you've been and whatever comes next.
4. What materials or processes were essential to this work, and why? That balance between control and letting go feels especially important with The Interim. With the ocean pieces, for example, I might spend a lot of time building atmosphere and depth, but then there are moments where I have to stop trying to control every mark and let the paint behave like water. Scraping something away or dragging paint across the surface can create something I never could have planned with a brush. I think that process mirrors the larger idea behind the show. There’s intention, but there’s also uncertainty. A lot of the paintings are really built by moving back and forth between those two things until they find their place.
5. What do you hope viewers experience or take away when encountering the work in person? More than anything, I want viewers to feel like they can step into the work for a moment. A lot of these paintings are large enough that the landscape starts to surround you, whether you're standing at the edge of the water, looking toward distant lights, or facing something beyond the horizon. I don't necessarily want to tell someone what they're supposed to feel or what the painting means. I’d rather create enough space for them to bring their own memories, questions, or sense of longing into it. If someone can stand in front of one of these pieces and feel that strange mix of stillness, uncertainty, wonder, and possibility, then I think the work has done what I hoped it would. Maybe they leave a little more comfortable with the idea that we don't always have to know what's on the other side.
6. If this exhibition had one underlying conversation or tension, what would it be?I think the underlying tension is between our desire to know what comes next and the reality that so much of life is lived without that certainty. We’re always looking toward something: the next place, the next season, the next version of ourselves. But there’s this space between where we’ve been and where we’re going that we tend to treat as temporary or something we need to get through.The Interim is really about staying in that space for a while. There’s tension in not knowing, but there can also be hope, wonder, and possibility there. A lot of the paintings place you right at that edge, looking toward something in the distance without ever showing you exactly what’s waiting there.I think the question underneath the whole show is: Can we be present in the unknown without needing to resolve it?
