Night Hawks Two Exhibits Explore Insomnia, Nocturnes by Anna Gawel Nightfall is usually the time when most of us let go of the dayís worries and shut our minds to the waking world, wrapping ourselves in the subliminal bliss of deep slumber. But for some artists, night, and all the haunting beauty that goes along with it, provides a wealth of creative inspirationóso much so that sleeping through it would almost be a shame. This month, two very different exhibits explore what happens when the sun goes down and the lights go outófrom the otherworldly visions of dreams, nightmares and insomnia to the serenity of painting night scenes. Sleep eludes the 31 artists in ìInsomnia: Landscapes of the Night,î now at the National Museum of Women in the Arts. The diverse collection is a small but intriguing collage of different styles and themes that span the emotional spectrum, examining the thought-provoking and often tormenting aspects of sleeplessness. The majority of the piecesówhich range from paintings and drawings to mixed-media creationsóare recent projects undertaken by mostly U.S.-based artists, though many of the backgrounds and works have a strong cross-cultural basis. And although each of the pieces tells its own distinct story, most bend toward darker, more menacing overtones, reflecting the silent pain of insomnia and the often disturbing realm of nightmares. A pervading sense of sadness is evident throughout ìInsomnia.î Italian artist Elisabetta Gut opens the exhibit with ìVolo-Volume (Flight Volume),î a sorrowful depiction of a blackbird tethered to the ground, an image designed to mirror the artistís mourning over the death of her husband. U.S.-Japanese artist Migiwa Orimoís multi-paneled painting ìWhen the Moon Is Redî portrays a ghostly pale woman being drowned by a sea of fish barreling down upon her, symbolizing the artistís inner struggles between her clashing cultural heritages. And Barbara Leventhal-Sternís ìThe Mermaidís Proofî is an interesting juxtaposition of two tigers enveloping a woman who hovers over a bed of shoes. The shoes represent lives lost in Nazi concentration camps during World War II. Even some of the simplest images project a haunting potency. Terry Svatís ìFear of My Dreams in Stoneî is a spare, almost childlike drawing that shows a woman being dragged by abstract figures emerging from beneath the ground, conjuring up the age-old fear of monsters lurking underneath the bed. Clara Garcia McLeanís ìUntitled, From the Dead Colombian Scrollsî is a chilling representation of impaled human heads, inspired by the true story of a Colombian drug cartel that terrorized a village, decapitating the inhabitants and using their heads in a game of soccer. The heads are barely recognizable in the bleak, abstract painting, but even at first glance, McLeanís work startles viewers with an inexplicable eeriness. Artist Terry Braunstein also draws on real-life news events. Braunsteinís photographs ìAloneî and ìNuclear Summer I,î taken in 1986 in the wake of mounting anxiety over the Cold War, once again resonate as a result of current events in the Middle East. Julie Wagner, on the other hand, tackles the nightly demons many insomniacs face with ìChronicle of Sleeplessî and ìInsomnia Journal,î a series of scattered, blurred oil drawings that powerfully capture her tortured struggle with sleeplessness. You can almost picture the artist laboring over her journal night after night, consumed by intruding thoughts and counting every restless minute that she cannot fall asleep. Not all of the pieces, however, possess such dark undercurrents. Genie Shenk, for instance, compiled a bright, succinct visual record of her dreams from 1998 to 2001, which stands in stark contrast to Wagnerís brooding journals. Molly Van Nice chronicled her thoughts during one particular restless night in a curious piece titled ìWakings,î which recorded her 3 a.m. thoughts on tiny squares of paper sewn into a quilt-like pattern. Niceís thoughts range from the poignant to the routine to the inane: ìIt is his blue in the eyes of my daughter;î ìOf course thereís always television, but that blue light is not the best way to see in the dark.î This seemingly random stream of consciousness effectively mimics the absurd little nighttime musings each one of us has experienced at some point. The exhibit also features a series of works by French-born, U.S.-based artist Louise Bourgeois, the most notable of which are ìInsomnia,î a drawing that entrances viewers with its odd configuration of eyes, and ìBlue Bed,î which makes clever use of curves and lines to morph unexpected shapes together. Other playful highlights include Sas Colbyís ìMorningî and ìEvening,î complementary versions of a Cyclops-like eye sprucing up a tiny notepad, and Carol Bartonís ìFive Luminous Towers: A Book to Read in the Dark,î a funny paper cutout of a castle tower thatís lit up and mounted on top of a bookóan artistic nightlight of sorts. Also take note of two quirky toy skeleton figures from Mexico beside May Stevensís lithograph ìInsomnia I, ëTwas Brillig/Away We Go.íî The toys temper the mood of the more mischievous-looking skeletons in the lithograph, which shows the two ghostly travelers rowing amid a sea of words belonging to a Lewis Carroll poem. Interestingly, three of the most visually striking pieces in the exhibit are neither playful nor morose but more open to interpretation. A life-size bed, which acts as a centerpiece in one of the exhibit rooms, features such a busy, eclectic patchwork of decorations that it defies any one explanation. And Claire Owenís vivid ìIn This Story, No One Dies,î painted in bold red and green, seems almost torn between its emotions, depicting a fairy tale heroine determined to fall asleep despite the ominous forest engulfing her. Finally, Jordan Tierneyís ìEmprise at 4 a.m.îófashioned out of domino pieces, wood, bed spring, fishing flouts and resin on laceósparks the imagination with a multitude of interpretations. The graceful nuances of the womanís face and body contour, which rise above the bed spring and lace, are at first difficult to distinguish amid the dominos and other materials competing for your attention. The artist intended for the woman to be the figurehead of a ship that calms the stormy seaóa tribute to those willing to venture into the unknownóbut you can just as easily see it as a woman surfacing from the bed below to enter into the dream world above. American artist Frederic Remington sees night less subjectively than many of the artists in the ìInsomniaî collection. Nearly 30 of his works are featured in an exhibit at the National Gallery of Art titled ìFrederic Remington: The Color of Night.î The exhibit, however, could more aptly be called ìThe Colors of Nightî to better reflect the artistís penchant for painting nightís many subtle shades and hues. In the decade before his death, Remington (1861-1909) produced some 70 paintings that focused on night scenes, particularly those involving cowboys, calvary troops, Native Americans and other Western themes. Hailed as chronicler of the American West, the artist experimented with an impressive range of tones and colors to highlight his subjects. Remington found a surprising abundance of light in the dead of night. He would illuminate his paintings with the flicker of a candle or the natural glow of moonlight, imbuing his nocturnes with a sense of stillness and serenity. In ìPretty Mother of the NightóWhite Otter Is No Longer a Boy,î Remington casts an almost smeared, charcoal-gray light over two Indians, emphasizing their lean muscles and the utter desolation of their surroundings. In ìApache Scouts Listening,î Remington deftly captures the silence of the moment as a group of Indians crouch in the darkness, listening for an enemy. Despite the necessary reliance on darker colors, the artist didnít shy away from painting brighter scenes. ìComing to the Callî brilliantly portrays the silhouette of a moose against the backdrop of a calm lake. The moose is surrounded by a beautiful burst of yellow from the setting sun. This tranquil scene, however, is somewhat marred by the hunter pointing a rifle at the moose from a canoe in the corner of the painting; nevertheless, the vibrant colors and crisp reflections from the lake are what truly stand out. However, for the most part, Remingtonís renderings of dawn and dusk are not as visually stunning as his nighttime paintings, which is where his true skills shine. In many of these more darkly lit works, Remington peppers his paintings with soft flickers of light that act as focal points amid the grayer night colorsówhether itís the spark of a gun going off, the glimmer of a window in the distance, or the punch of a lightening bolt tearing through the sky. Remingtonís prowess for infusing light into his noctu rnes is particularly evident in his snowy landscapes. The artist bounces the moonlight off the snow to create an otherwordly pale turquoise glow that fills works such as ìA Reconnaissanceî and ìIndian Scouts in the Moonlight.î Other times, the snow itself almost acts as its own subject. ìThe End of the Day,î for instance, is a painting of contrasts: The horses seem weighed down by the heavy snowfall around them despite the light and delicate appearance of the tiny falling snowflakes. Remington blankets another work, ìThe Scout: Friends or Foes?,î in a sea of pure, untouched snow for a more striking effect. The painting also benefited from a recent cleaning that enhanced details such as the horseís breath. Remington was renowned for capturing the American West and his paintings clearly convey the isolation of frontier life, from the lone sentinel standing guard to the weary traveler trudging through the vast open plains. Many of Remingtonís later works are marked by a sense of foreboding danger as the artist became more and more consumed by the notion of sudden death, an ironic fact considering that he himself died prematurely due to complications from a hernia. This element of danger can be seen in his more action-oriented nocturnes, where men are being fired upon, Indians feast on a dead buffalo, or ravenous wolves stalk a dying horse. One of Remingtonís most arresting scenes, however, succeeds by merely implying the threat of danger. ìMoonlight, Wolfî depicts a lone wolf surrounded by specks of starlight, glaring at the viewer with a set of piercing eyes, as if itís stumbled upon its next victim. Compare this ominous image with ìEvening on a Canadian Lake,î which shows two men and a dog drifting by canoe in a peaceful outdoor setting. The dramatic shift in moods demonstrates Remingtonís versatility as an artist and his ability to paint an intricate web of not only colors, but emotions as well. ìInsomnia: Landscapes of the Nightî runs through Nov. 30 at the National Museum of Women in the Arts, 1250 New York Ave., NW. For more information, please call (202) 783-5000 or visit www.nmwa.org. ìFrederic Remington: The Color of Nightî runs through July 13 at the National Gallery of Artís East Building, 4th Street and Constitution Avenue, NW. For more information, please call (202) 737-4215 or visit www.nga.gov. Anna Gawel is the assistant managing editor of The Washington Diplomat.