BmoreArt

Hal Boyd’s paintings operate on multiple levels and attract a diverse audience. They resonate with both high art enthusiasts and non-art world “civilians.” In this show, Boyd continues his exploration of the subconscious and philosophy, expressed through narrative imagery. He seems to embrace the Kerouacian edict of “first thought, best thought” and readily taps into subconscious “flow” states. 

These vibrant pieces are filled with creatures and characters bustling in a world reminiscent of the finest psychedelic comics and Fauvist-inspired surrealism. Boyd says he is inspired by post-impressionist painters who utilize a high-key color palette, such as Bonnard and Van Gogh, and has declared that his favorite painting ever is the oddity “Self Portrait (Inn of the Dawn Horse)” by British-born rebel feminist painter and novelist Leonora Carrington, a spirited Mexican Surrealist.

Boyd’s latest works feature more centered images with tighter compositions than his past work, while maintaining his dreamy, weird scenes; this time, they are pared down. They don’t feel rushed; instead, they are compositionally more concentrated—a distillation evident.

One exemplary large painting in the show is “Appendix.” It presents the viewer with a hallucinatory image laid out in squishy quadrants, some recalling the zany segments of “Fractured Fairytales” from the Rocky and Bullwinkle TV series, as filtered through classic Hitchcock noir. The lower left features a pale-yellow overhead shot of a naked blonde woman whose side is sliced open, gushing crimson blood, surrounded by a team of surgeons. Above her, the same woman is tied to railroad tracks with a train bearing down on her, and no hero in sight. In the top right, the woman is positioned at the top of a ladder, holding a pair of oversized scissors and grinning. Beneath her, in the lower right, three cavorting, wild-grin alligators in an urn give her the eye. A group of us debated the painting’s meaning, with differing sensational conclusions. After the discussion, the buyers decided against asking Boyd to decipher it. They wanted the mystery to live on, embedded in the work.

In another painting, “Totems,” three female heads balloon out of one another, towering face to face with a large, slathered-red owl whose head breaks open into several canine-like beasts. To the far right, a red stalk reaches toward the sky. Everything blossoms in this piece. In contrast, the simply laid-out “Boys State” depicts a teenager with an older woman, both centered and seated in a green car as she drives, with a cross looming on a steeple behind them. The colors are more subdued. The boy gazes out the side window while the woman, looking toward him, lifts her skirt to reveal a broad swath of old-style panties, the steering wheel amusingly positioned between her legs, achieving a laughably risqué phallic image. 

This is just a glimpse of the shenanigans Boyd continues to present to his audience with obvious glee throughout the show. Some works are more meditative and beatific; for example, “Outsider,” where a room full of bursting flowers, both inside and out, is accompanied by a lone accordion player—perhaps a stand-in for the artist himself as a young man who understands the power that lies in bearing witness with some music while contemplating the deliriously blossoming real world.

The art scene in Baltimore often celebrates youth and innovation over age and decades of experience. Boyd’s work illustrates why concepts of diversity, which are crucial in the art world, should also encompass older adults. Increasingly, in art schools and the broader art community, I observe a wider mix of ages collaborating. Last week at the XoXo Gallery, Goxxip Girl, a lively and sharp new feminist collective, presented a show featuring artists from a broad age range (70s to early 20s), resulting in a more vibrant exhibition. Those I talked to there praised this approach as thrilling for everyone.

Boyd was ill during his previous show at Gallery Blue Boor and was unable to attend that exhibition opening. I had to interview him by telephone through his daughter, the well-known writer and University of Baltimore professor Betsy Boyd. This time, he appeared at the event smiling broadly, surrounded by family, and held court from a chair in the corner of the front room, beautifully backlit by the afternoon sun streaming in through the window behind him. 

He gently held my hand the entire time I spoke with him. I asked what he thought was the difference in the new work. He paused for a moment and replied that he was less concerned about what it all meant and was simply pleased it existed here for others to witness. A very Buddha-like answer. His gentle delight in the day’s celebration and the moments of revelry with his family, who often inspire and appear in his work, was deeply poignant. Boyd’s friends and family told me that his home is filled with a lifetime of art. It grows every day. It’s comforting to know he’s back at it right now, creating his delirious wild-style work, maybe even dreaming of the next exhibition. I’m looking forward to it.

Hal Boyd’s exhibition Signifiers is on view at Gallery Blue Door May 17th, 2025 – July 26th, 2025