Branches, water, light, calm. The paintings, quintessentially Northwestern, of Jared Rue are quiet and yet full of movement. There is a way in which they rather remind me of Philip Glass music: slight differences, nuanced changes of emphasis, hue, or color saturation—cunning metamorphosis;

a bit of red emerges…

…a feather appears here and there. “Feathers seem to float or fly across a setting. What is happening just out of view?” Jared asks. “Are the feathers independent of their owners because of natural molting?  An extreme gust of wind?  Is it the result of severe or mortal trauma?”

…leaves that look like butterflies become, in another piece, actual butterflies, “portrayed,” as Jared himself says, “flying in large hordes, with seeming intent. Inspired by the flight formations of a cloud of bats…leaving their shelter to hunt at night…. Do you get the same ominous feeling when the subject is changed to something harmless and light?  Additions of fauna change the reference point of the work.”

Because each scene is so exquisitely rendered, drawn with a fine brush and careful observation o