The word “icon” has seen better days. Once the exclusive honorific of revered religious figures, it’s since been diluted in the shallows of popular culture. Just think of all the people we consider “stars,” be they actors or activists, drag queens or quarterbacks. You, too, can be an icon if you do something reasonably epic and crush it on socials. Even better if you die tragically young. Saintliness is not required.
Still, we can agree that to be iconic is to be special in some way. In the current exhibition at Burlington’s Safe and Sound Gallery, titled simply “ICON,” 18 artists illustrate myriad interpretations of the theme. Most are refreshingly original; some are downright cryptic. Each is utterly different from the others, which makes for an engaging visual smorgasbord.
Saintliness is not required.
Gallery owner Marin Horikawa conceived of and curated “ICON” and was pleasantly surprised at the response — especially because he had floated the idea “to artists about five years ago and got crickets,” he said at the reception. “This time I had almost too many.”
Horikawa personally invited the artists, who hail from cities around the U.S., the UK, France and the Netherlands. Just one — West Rupert-based Scott Lenhardt — is a Vermonter and has previously exhibited at Safe and Sound.
Two works play off the sacred and the starstruck notions of icon: Madonna and Child, a staple motif of art history; and 1950s actor James Dean, who died young and is a persistent symbol of youthful alienation.
The former contribution is “Milk Teeth,” a brushy, vivid oil painting by Michigan artist Melissa Beth Floyd. In the 36-inch-square portrait, a mother holds two flailing children who look too old to be nursing. And yes, they display their first set of teeth. All three figures are essentially nude — mom’s round breasts are prominent in the image — and all three are screaming. Or maybe singing? Either way, the trio seems close to losing it. Mom holds one of the babes in her right arm while her left hand is raised, not in benediction but in an “enough already” gesture.
Floyd addresses the “paradox of intimacy and detachment” in her artist statement. “I kept coming back to the Madonna and Child, especially those exaggerated, slightly grotesque mannerist babies,” she writes. “I wanted to tap into that history while bringing it into a messier, more chaotic present — one that reflects the tangled experience of motherhood.”
Jean-Robert Alcindor‘s “Invisible Rebel” hangs on the opposite wall, and the French artist’s title is literal. The roughly 26-by-20-inch acrylic-on-paper painting depicts an ostensibly male torso and a head of hair. That is, the red jacket and white T-shirt have the volume of a body, but the wavy hair is suspended over … nothing. Actually, what is visible behind the nonexistent face is a flat field of green and an expanse of blue. A low building set in the distance lends the image a sense of depth.
Alcindor clearly references Dean in the 1955 film Rebel Without a Cause, but he leaves the identity open for younger viewers to fill in with their own heroes. For this viewer, the painting calls to mind paper dolls, which separate figures from their wardrobes, and the “empty man” paintings of Belgian surrealist René Magritte.
Rop Van Mierlo‘s two paintings, both titled “Unicorn,” are rendered in blurry, vibratory watercolor on paper, but not as the snow-white equine of legend. Instead, the Dutch artist paints the contemporary iteration with rainbow mane and tail.
In his artist statement, Van Mierlo notes that Christ and the unicorn share certain characteristics: “purity, virginity and mystical power.” But now, “in the capitalist faith,” the former symbol of rarity is a ubiquitous commercial icon found on children’s clothing, stickers, mugs, lunch boxes and more. The majestic beast has become a cute plush toy.
We could read Van Mierlo’s soft-focus images as an attempt to reclaim the animal’s magical, illusory reputation. We could also see this sweet creature as a Pride flag with hooves.
Scott Lenhardt, who is known both for his Burton snowboard graphics and realistic portraits, contributed a trippy acrylic-on-paper painting titled “Smile.” Without squinting a bit, it would be easy to miss the demented smiley face hovering over the cartoonish grim reaper and the kaleidoscopic background. But once you make out its subtle features, you can’t unsee it.
This 21-by-27-inch piece is equal parts gleeful and creepy. Lenhardt’s take is this: “The Reaper’s primary function is to guide souls to their final destination. What an important and beautiful job!”
Christian Hosoi is a skateboarding legend, a former pro and owner of an eponymous skateboard brand. Following a period of drug addiction and incarceration, Hosoi reclaimed himself as a devout Christian and family man. At Safe and Sound, Jérôme Romain‘s oil painting “Hosoi invert” is based on a photo of him by noted skateboard photographer Mark Oblow.
The roughly 46-by-32-inch work is nearly photorealistic itself. A muscular, shirtless Hosoi is upside down in a hand plant, seen from a 45-degree angle overhead. Balanced on his right hand, the skater thrusts his deck upward with the left. It’s a brief moment of athletic strength and grace, and Romain’s eloquent description meets that moment. As Horikawa’s exhibition catalog puts it, “…he evokes a presence — the afterglow of a myth in motion.” It seems that the icon here is less the person than Hosoi “invoked as a symbol of risk, freedom and intensity.”
Travis Millard‘s small mixed-media illustration “PIG” was created in 2018 but is, regrettably, just as relevant in the era of Trump 2.0. In the absurdist cartoon, the titular porker is clad in a black suit, white shirt and telltale long red tie. He struggles against nearly a dozen tiny women who have tied him to the ground and are feeding the tie into a meat grinder. The allusion to the Lilliputians of Jonathan Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels is unmistakable.
According to the Los Angeles-based artist, “The icon in this image [is] the women who fight for their rights and stand up against the pigs who work against them. Dim Donald was certainly top of mind when I made that but … there are many asshats who fit the suit.” ‘Nuf said.
Conceptually in sync is “I will always be searching for a quiet place to lay down and close my eyes,” by TWOTMA — the nom d’art of French artist Aimée Pedezert. That title is written in large capital letters under the head of a woman who is, well, lying down and closing her eyes. Using black China ink and acrylic on two pieces of fabric, TWOTMA drew thick, cartoony lines and exaggerated facial features: long, straight eyelashes, full lips, sideways Picasso-esque nose. At 40 by 38.5 inches, the piece is a startling, graphic, humorous contrast to more painterly or colorful works. But TWOTMA puts it down in black and white, and it’s a strong statement.
“[T]he voluntarily minimal line speaks for what is permanent in my work: the need to cut the noise and reduce the information,” she writes. “[M]y icon could be anyone, with no specific intention to sparkle, simply anyone trying to be at peace through daily life.”
In 2025, finding peace may be iconic enough.
The original print version of this article was headlined “‘ICON’-ography | Safe and Sound considers the sacred and starstruck”
Related events
‘ICON’
Location: Safe and Sound Gallery, 2 Church St., Suite 2M, Burlington
This article appears in The Food Issue 2025.
Got something to say?
Send a letter to the editor and we'll publish your feedback in print!
