Seen from one angle, Imago Philosophia, the current exhibit at San Jose’s Anno Domini Gallery, glistens like the fabled streets of El Dorado. Seen from another, it all slips away into a flat black matte. 

Consisting of 73 hand-drawn images printed in gold leaf on black, the exhibit—much like the ideas which inspired it—changes remarkably depending on the observer’s vantage point.

Imago Philosophia is the second exhibit at AD by Spanish artist LeonKa (Leon Kafre), the first being his US debut, 2016’s Things, Mereology and Schemes. That exhibit took some very abstract concepts and vividly displayed them in bright lines of gold. 

The artist’s new exhibit continues the gold thematic, but develops on the previous show’s technique and message, depicting many of the images, shapes and conceptual distinctions historically defined by philosophy. Depending on the viewer’s position and the play of light, each image may appear yellow, iridescent, nickel or simply not appear at all. 

“I emphasize the models that are used to illustrate theories,” Ka says of the pieces in Imago Philosophia. “In short, black symbolizes the structure, the background or ‘being’ that underlies any figure that appears. The figure, then, becomes ‘illuminated’ against this background of being.”

In a print titled Truth: Metaphysical, Epistemological and Semantical Distinction, a fountain spouts the many slippery forms of truth identified by philosophy: a priori truths, a posteriori truths, necessary, conditional, synthetic and analytic truths. Taken together, there is an effect of observing some hidden totality normally too vast for human view.

Between his last US show and now, Kafre received his PhD in Metaphysics from the Universitat de Barcelona. Unlike the popular image of artists struggling with self and subconscious for creative content, Kafre says his process largely involves research and rigorous theoretical distinction.

“First of all, [I] study the subjects, trying to underline the examples that are presented to illustrate a theory,” he says. Only then, after studying and identifying key conceptual images, does he begin “the illustration of those examples.”

Before becoming a philosopher proper, the artist born Leon Kafre began his career on the street.

“I started writing graffiti in 1991, at the age of 11,” he says over email. By then, he had already begun struggling with large philosophical questions like the existence of God, the nature of numbers and the tricky issue of being itself. Around the turn of the millennium, he says he “started doing something different, closer to what I do now.

“The narrative and the spray technique of graffiti seemed very limited to me, and I wanted to experiment narratively and technically with new forms,” the artist says.

Specifically, he started making massive street murals intricately depicting esoteric knowledge, sacred geometry and metaphysics. The first time AD Gallery director Cherri Lakey saw one of these pieces—2011’s Urbi et Orbi—she was immediately struck.

“It’s funny, because our whole thing is street art and street art as culture, but there was a really tricky time where all of a sudden people thought if you want to get famous just paint something on a wall and throw your website on there,” Lakey says. “But there are these amazing exceptions out there like Leon who are true and intense.”

Much of Imago Philosophia is inspired by the somewhat terrifying thought of Scottish empiricist David Hume. In the 18th century, Hume argued against cause and effect, stating that any knowledge we may have of the supposed law—such as that one pool ball striking another will cause the second to move—is only based on our observation of two disconnected events. 

It’s a difficult concept to wrap one’s head around—all the more reason for Ka to represent it artistically. A print hanging on the building’s north wall depicts Hume himself surrounded by his own deductions. Beneath, an image of a billiard ball being struck is broken up into two separate images. 

It’s appropriate, then, that Lakey would feel reawakened by LeonKa’s work. The great philosopher Immanual Kant once said that reading Hume awoke him from what he called his “dogmatic slumber.”

“This is the epitome of what art is for: those transcendent ideas and thoughts that we just don’t have the words for,” Lakey says. “It’s a really powerful thing.”

Imago Philosophia
Now Through Oct 16
Thu-Fri 12-7pm, Sat 12-5pm
Free
AD Gallery, San Jose 

They say a picture is worth a thousand words, but Pablo Martín thinks they might be worth more than that. Mysterious and glyph-like, the ink-and-paper images in Inventarios by the Argentinian artist all aim to defeat traditional language, evoking “esoteric knowledge never meant to be spoken, but only viewed and understood intuitively.” Figures stand poised before unknowable tasks, conjoined in logic-defying ways, often surrounded by “cabecitas” (or, little heads). In Anno Domini’s second show, Mexican artist Play is Soul Food collaborates with gallery owners on a series of spontaneous body art. Both shows end Saturday.

‘Inventarios’ Closing Night
Sat, 12-5pm, Free
Anno Domini, San Jose

It all begins with a crackle. Tape hiss purls. Then, from out of the Bay Area’s past, a voice echoes:

“On May Day, 1969, the Black Panther party held rallies across the nation demanding that jailed minister of defense Huey P. Newton be set free,” announces a disembodied voice. It goes on to recount how, on the first May Day, working people in Chicago led a mass strike—calling for an 8 hour work day. “The Black Panther party today,” the voice continues, “is carrying on this same fight for all working people.”

What comes next is a testimony from the end of time. Then, “Rupture II:”

“What are we going to do?” asks an all-too-familar voice. “We’re going to make American great again, you watch.”

Welcome to Transfigurations.

Written and recorded over the last two years, Transfigurations is the latest effort from San Jose experimental musician Cellista, a.k.a. Freya Seeburger. Though cello is the album’s primary instrument, Transfigurations would best be described as a sort of avant-pop, comprising elements of classical, found sound, trap, modern composition and noise. It is clear-eyed, and it is apocalyptic. The message, unmistakably sent across the album’s eleven tracks: that the Bay Area has reached a point of no return.

“I think we reached it a while ago,” Seeburger says over the phone. “What’s happening now is just the wound. It’s opening up and we can see it. That sounds sort of dark and depressing, but we’re not in a terribly great time.”

In an area where the powerful praise the act of disruption, it’s no surprise then that harm would manifest in the form of “Ruptures,” gaping holes inflicted on the body of an ecosystem, registered on Tranfigurations as a series of sound collages.

“I think that’s what my ruptures are about. It’s a way of giving testimony to the fragile ecosystem around us, and the fact that artists here struggling,” says Seeburger.

On the quietly ominous “Look Homeward, Angel” San Jose rapper DEM ONE spits two verses, bookending an operatic aria sung over cello, piano and beatbox. In the second verse, he aims squarely for the gut, calling out San Jose’s self-described status as “Capital of Silicon Valley:”

“I’m from the valley of the heartless,” DEM ONE rhymes, “People sleeping on the park bench. Evil creeping through the darkness. Plush homes, apartments segregated—separated from the people on the margins.”

Though it comes early in the record, this verse serves the album like a centerpiece. Free of any gilded threading, apart from the self-satisfied lingo IPOs and disruption, DEM ONE’s verses reveal what is always there around us. Yes, it is political. Yes, you are probably in some way complicit. And yes, you should listen.

“Being an artist is a political act, whether you want to admit that or not,” Seeburger says, “because it’s so reliant on places, and spaces, and institutions making room for us.”

The question of affordable housing, and of the space for artists in this newly transfigured Bay Area arises again in “Rupture III,” a mournful tone piece, which samples news reports on the Oakland Ghost Ship fire.

“Just where are struggling artists supposed to live?” asks the voice of a correspondent, his report soon falling into an unrelenting loop on the words “questions of safety and legality.”

“We’re dependent, reliant on affordable housing,” Seeburger says, of the Bay Area’s arts community, “but right now in the Bay Area, we’re seeing these small assaults on our life daily, whether it be the lack of affordable housing, or just the political situation, there’s all these micro forces that disrupt our daily way of life.”

Transfigurations bears witness to these small assaults, registering them across a body scarred with tape hiss, slashed with string, and drained of all security. The assessment is dire, but like the biblical transfiguration of Christ, it is an event meant to lay bare what was previously hidden.

“In some ways, the ruptures, it’s a way of seeing the wound so that we can attend to it,” Cellista says. “So that there can finally be some sort of help, some sort of healing.”

Cellista’s ‘Tranfigurations’
May 31, 8pm, $10+
Anno Domini, San Jose

Gemma Ray is one of those singer-songwriters whose saturated, soulful sound is at once eerily familiar and yet completely distinct from anything else in today’s pop music landscape. Pulling from a range of influences and sound textures—including Pink Floyd, ’60s girl groups and the musical scores of John Barry—Ray’s sonic palate is unquestionably her own, which is why it might be best to allow her to describe it.

“My music is a genuine expression and an extension of myself,” she says of her “psychedelic torch singer” sound. “I never set out to be a certain genre or pursue a set type of music, but I guess there’s always been a psychedelic element in what I do—that’s a consistent thing—and I suppose I am kind of a soul singer.”

The UK-born, Berlin-based multi-instrumentalist makes her San Jose debut at the Anno Domini art gallery in SoFA, where she’ll perform songs from her latest release, The Exodus Suite, along with selections from her six previous albums.

Recorded entirely live, The Exodus Suite is a reflection of Ray’s multifarious talents as a musician and songwriter and highlights a somber, harmonically rich sound. Tracked in a small studio, tucked away inside an empty airport in Berlin, the emotions captured on the album play into the circumstances under which the record was put together; at the time, the abandoned airport was housing Syrian refugees who ended up playing an unexpected role on the sound of the finished recording.

“The way I recorded the album was very live, and I think a lot of the sound of the children playing or just general noise from the hangar below worked its way into the vocal mics,” Ray explains. “So, physically, a lot of that experience was captured into the live recording. It was very strange to have that insight into the situation.”

Though Ray’s music isn’t political by any stretch, politics can’t help but play a part in the tone of The Exodus Suite, which at times sounds and feels like the soundtrack to a movie. Though her sound has evolved over the years, her compositions have always maintained the quality of a film score, once the vocals are taken stripped away. “I’ve always written songs from a visual place,” she say. “And I’m trying to create a picture with my sound.”

Gemma Ray
Dec 5, 7pm
Anno Domini, San Jose

Few indie-songwriters venture into the world of ballet. Yet, Portland singer-songwriter Nick Jaina was the musical director for two of them, Warehouse under the Hudson (2012) and Epistasis (2011).

But Jaina, performing at Anno Domini on February 22, is actually quite an accessible alternative-folk singer, who weaves in elements of pop and jazz, in his own music. His lyrics are simple, yet poetic, and he’s a favorite amongst indie music fans in Portland.

Jaina is an underrated master at creating deep meaning by painting little scenes with his words. They can be enjoyed in the gentle folk-pop-package they are delivered in, or can be dissected for their insight into the human condition. It’s tempting to call him one of those “literary” artists that the Decembrists or the Weakerthans get accused of being, and while he is in the same realm as them, he doesn’t stuff a bunch of words or overtly large ideas into his songs; he writes a lot of open-ended conversational stanzas that may not seem like much at first, but leave a lasting impression the way a good short story does.

This tour he will be accompanied by Bay Area string players Danah Olivetree (Fox & Woman, etc) and Dorota Szuta (Matador).

Nick Jaina (The Uncanny Valley of the Heart’s Delight #8)
Anno Domini
Fri, 7pm, $8

The artsy chaos on South First Street at Subzero makes for great spectacle. At the 2012 edition on Friday, there was once again plenty to see, starting with the return of Art Alive Gallery. This body-painting collective debuted at the 2011 festival, but they really upped their game this year. Semi-nude women decked out head to toe in body paint as everything from mythological creatures to art masterpieces inspired by Botticelli and Dali would be enough to stop traffic in any city, but on this night in SoFA they were just one of many unbelievable things to see and hear.

So yes, Subzero continues to be the South Bay’s coolest street festival, and the sensory overload is its most obvious appeal. But to me, Subzero is really about discovery. The reason people look forward to it so much is that it’s become the place for artists from across a wide range of subcultures to show off what they’re working on the rest of the year. There is eye-opening stuff happening around us every day in the South Bay, but it’s hidden inside San Jose’s industrial warehouses or behind the shiny gleam of tech offices.

A perfect example this year was Dru, the masked headliner on the William Street Stage. Here’s a guy who was making music and games in his South Bay bedroom, releasing albums mostly in Internet obscurity, and suddenly he’s headlining the biggest street festival of the year? He even had three of the Art Alive painted ladies dancing on stage through his set—which was, by the way, the craziest electro barrage I’ve heard in quite some time. His unique take on the Star Wars cantina band theme was particularly inspired.

That’s the genius of festival organizers (and Anno Domini owners) Cherri Lakey and Brian Eder. They pay attention to all of the subcultures around us, and have an irrepressible drive to connect them to each other, and to themselves, and to us. I didn’t get to see nearly as many of the bands as I’d planned to, just because there was so much art to look at, plus excellent randomness like the Oversocial Mofo Revue. But I did get to hear a few of the weirder stage offerings, like the Minibosses ripping through some of my favorite Nintendo themes. Unlike almost all the chip bands that have made arcade retro cool in the last couple of years, these guys play with a straight rock band set up, and their sound is a lot heavier and more powerful in person. I loved how people were yelling out video game names the way “Freebird” would get yelled at other concerts: “Contra! Connnnnnntttttaaa! Mega Man 2!” The band delivered both, by the way.

My favorite discovery of the night wasn’t even from the South Bay, but L.A. (granted, this is probably because I had seen most of the local acts before): the indie-folk outfit Monsters Calling Home. They floated ornate arrangements with intriguing lyrics across the eastern end of the festival, while cryptic messages like “Once I was a dolphin and you, you were a manatee” flashed several stories up on one of the buildings behind them. Apparently it was quite an experience for the band, too, as lead singer Alex Hwang explained that in their hometown, most crowds tend to watch them for a minute before looking down to their iPhones. “We really like you,” he told the crowd. “You guys are a lot more clappy than Los Angeles is.”

When Laura Weinbach laments that “I’m Not Really In The Christmas Mood This Year,” on the song her group Foxtails Brigade released in December, she expresses a sentiment often felt, but rarely expressed in song—Christmas isn’t what it used to be. The San Francisco band will bring their holiday tidings of bad cheer to Anno Domini Gallery on Friday, as the latest in Corpus Collosum’s “The Uncanny Valley of the Heart’s Delight” series.

Accompanied by a soft bed of melancholy stringed instruments and a Rat Pack sophistication, it (and the rest of Time is Passed, Foxtails Brigade’s Christmas album) plays like the lonely, gloomy answer to A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra
.
The deeper theme is the inherent sadness of growing up and seeing the world for what it really is and no longer through a child’s eyes. (“rain freezes to snow/all children grow old/and though the new year begins/a sweet little dream ends”) The fact that Weinbach has such a soft child-like voice, only punctuates the sentiment of watching one’s childhood slip away and not being able to do anything about it.

It’s no wonder the video quickly clocked in over 25,000 views. While not exactly viral, it did get triple the looks of any of their previous videos.

Foxtails Brigade’s previous album, The Bread and the Bait, is a no-less-sad slice of orchestral pop. The instrumentation never steers away from violins, cells, acoustic guitars and xylophones. The match of Weinbach’s masterful voice with the group’s obvious musicals skills, makes one wonder if they met in Julliard. But their songs are always balanced with the simple confessional quality of a coffee shop folk singer, making them as relatable as they are theatrical.

Foxtails Brigade performs Friday, March 30 at Anno Domini Gallery in San Jose, 7pm; $7.