Louisiana Abstraction includes a selection of artworks from the LSU MOA permanent collection. Mounted as a compliment to, Blurring Boundaries, this exhibition showcases the immense talent found within our state, focusing on abstract artwork by women with connections to Louisiana. This exhibit is on view August 2–October 16, 2022.


yellow abstract painting by Margaret Evangeline

Margaret Evangeline, Illuminations for Carson McCullers, 2012. Oil on canvas. Gift of Hunt Slonem.

Portrait of Margaret Evangeline in Studio by Sarah Escarraz.

A one-time student at Louisiana State University, Margaret Evangeline draws on her Southern roots for inspiration. Her abstracted style has evolved throughout the years, shifting between brightly colored canvases with linear forms and shapes, to thick layers impasto mixed with crystallina powder, to experiments blasting metal sheets with a rifle to examine the effects on the surface.

This painting references Southern Gothic author Carson McCullers, who struggled throughout her life with identity, mental health, and physical ailments. McCullers died at age 50, leaving an unfinished autobiography entitled, Illumination and Night Glare. Evangeline’s painting features a chaotic scribble of lines, intertwining within themselves. Although the shapes occupy one space, they are separate with no interaction. One form stands out—the heavy scrawls of white paint contrast with the delicate, spiraling orange lines. The dots in the background reference the artist’s interest in bullet holes, the literal piercing of a surface. Could Evangeline be visually exploring the author’s maddening mental state and her struggles with identity and place? Or McCuller’s frequent literary themes of spiritual isolation and the plight of misfits and outcasts within society?


Ida Kohlmeyer, Pompeian #2, 1967. Oil on canvas. Gift of JP Morgan Chase.

Jerry Siegel, Ida Kohlmeyer, undated. Courtesy of the artist.

At the time of her death in 1997, Ida Kohlmeyer was one of Louisiana’s most well-known artists. She began creating art in her thirties, after discovering a passion for painting while taking classes at the John McCrady Art School in the French Quarter of her native New Orleans. While renowned for her large metal sculptures, Kohlmeyer’s distinctive style and personal vocabulary are often present in her joyous and exuberant abstracted canvases. The artist equated abstraction with being freed from the rigid confines of realism, allowing her to explore movement and expression through color, shape, and texture.


Lin Emery, Isis, 2016. Aluminum and mixed media. Gift of Brooks Braselman.

Queen Nefatari Being Led by Isis (detail), c. 1279-1213 B.C. Metropolitan Museum of Art, NY.

The Great Mother Isis was the Egyptian goddess of healing and magic—able to create or destroy life with mere words. Lin Emery captures her power with metal and movement, while achieving a sense of intimacy between the viewer and figure. Her winged arms are open in greeting, encouraging you to move closer. The face, a representation of the solar disk, a powerful ancient symbol for the sun and earthly life, contrasts with the reflective metal. The figure’s body is flattened and presented in profile, with both feet facing the same direction. The goddess is modernized, her spirit captured in contemporary form.

Lin Emery welding at the New York Sculpture Center, c. 1954. From the Archive of Lin Emery.

Emery studied art in Paris and New York, establishing herself as a sculptor in the early 1950s, a time when the medium was dominated by men. While the artist experimented with various forms and constructions, she was most intrigued by movement. Emery created kinetic artworks that took on life by shifting, spinning, jiggling, or traveling through space, powered by water, magnets, or wind. She states:

“My sculpture is kinetic, meaning that it moves. The elements are derived from nature, and I borrow natural elements — wind, water, magnets — to set them in motion. The rhythms are influenced by infinite variables: the points of balance, the normal frequency of each form, the interruption of the counterpoise. I juggle, juxtapose, and adjust to achieve the dance or pantomime that I want. Then the sculpture takes over and invents a fillip of its own.”


Caroline Wogan Durieux, Fetish, 1977. Black electron prints with hand color on paper. Gift of the artist.

Caroline Wogan Durieux, Search for Life, 1977. Black electron prints with hand color on paper. Gift of the artist.

Caroline Wogan Durieux, African Valentine, 1977. Black electron prints with hand color on paper. Gift of the artist.

Caroline Durieux’s often overlooked artistic career spanned almost six decades, seeing her travel, study, and create throughout America and Latin America. Her life was as diverse as her art—Durieux was a neighbor of famed author William Faulkner in New Orleans, friends with renowned Mexican painter and social activist, Diego Rivera, and directed the Louisiana Federal Art Project of the Works Progress Administration in 1939. In 1943, she took a teaching position at the Louisiana State University in Baton Rouge. While she worked in a variety of media, Durieux’s passion was illustration and printmaking. The artist experimented with many forms of printmaking, making advancements to the cliché verre process, creating some of the first color prints rendered with the method.

Perhaps Durieux’s most creative contribution was the invention of the electron print. The artist, along with Dr. Harry Wheeler, a professor of plant pathology in the Department of Biology at LSU, and his wife, Naomi Wheeler, a student of Durieux’s, developed a process to mix radioisotopes with pigment to make radioactive ink. The ink was then used use create images by placing the artwork rendered in the ink against photographic paper.

The initial idea of producing the radioactive ink steamed from Dr. Wheeler’s research into radioactive isotopes in the tagging of microscopic fungi. This inspiration is distinctly exemplified with these three circular works—one can imagine peering into a magnified petri dish, watching the amoebic shapes flitter and float, trapped inside the clearly defined boarders. Although abstracted, the imagery takes recognizable form with Durieux’s witty titles.

The Wheelers and Durieux worked on the electron printing process for six years before patenting the process in 1957, receiving permission to use the isotopes from the Atomic Energy Commission. They obtained the actual materials from the Oak Ridge National Laboratory, the Tennessee site that produced plutonium for the Manhattan Project in the 1940s. At a time when interest in atomic energy was closely linked to national security and recent memories of the weapons discharged on Japan during World War II, Durieux’s process garnered international attention. The resulting prints were included in the show Peaceful Uses of Atomic Energy and similar exhibitions throughout the 1950s.

Diego Rivera, Caroline Wogan Durieux, 1929. Oil on canvas. Gift of Mrs. Paula Garvey Manship.


Alia Ali, Atomic Flower, from the FLUX series, UV laminated archival pigment print with upholstered frame. Purchased with funds from the Winifred and Kevin P. Reilly Initiative for Underrepresented Artists.

Portrait of Alia Ali at 193 Gallery in Paris, 2021. Photo by Elohimedia. Courtesy of Alia Ali.

Alia Ali (Arabic: عاليه علي // Sabean: ‎ 𐩲𐩱𐩡𐩺𐩲|𐩲𐩱𐩡) is a Yemeni-Bosnian-US multi-media artist, who splits her time between Los Angeles, New Orleans, and Marrakech. A child of migrant linguists, Ali has traveled to sixty-seven countries, lived in and between seven, and grown up among five languages. Her migrations allow her to process the world through interactive experiences, with the belief that the act of translating and interpreting written language has damaged, rather than enlightened, particular communities, resulting in the threat of their exclusion. She is an artist who exists on the borders of identifying as West Asian, Eastern European, a United States citizen, queer, culturally Muslim yet spiritually independent. Ali’s work explores cultural binaries, challenges culturally sanctioned oppression, and confronts the dualistic barriers of conflicted notions of gender, politics, media, and citizenship.

This artwork is part of the FLUX series, of which Ali states:

“FLUX is a series of shifting photographic artworks that embody silhouettes that are warped and warped by textile, saturated in colors and a medley of motifs. Each frame is uniquely upholstered with wax print sourced from Cote d’Ivoire, Senegal, Nigeria and the Netherlands. While some of the images distort visibility, others create hypervisibility almost negating themselves into animated forms of camouflage. The outburst of saturated colors and hyper-optic motifs in these images, lend themselves to vibrating results obscuring the complex and sometimes iniquitous conditions by which these textiles came into fruition, thus destabilizing the source(s) from where they came from. The multiple dimensionality creates a kaleidoscope of perspectives, horizontally and vertically. Horizontally, in that this material has come into existence across borders over land and water, and vertically in that they draw from and evoke cosmic, mythical and religious inspirations. Furthermore, these particular wax prints are a key to mapping the colonial trade routes. While they certainly can be seen as escapist dreamscapes, they are also objects of oppression and capitalism.”


Clementine Hunter, Woman in Profile, undated. Oil on board. Transfers from LSU Libraries’ Special Collections Department.

Portrait of Clementine Hunter, 2014. Courtesy of the Schlesinger Library on the History of Women in America

Clementine Hunter, born near Cloutierville, Louisiana around Christmas in 1886, is one of America’s most well-known vernacular artists. From early childhood, Hunter worked as a laborer, picking cotton on plantation sites throughout the Cane River Valley, eventually moving to Melrose Plantation in the 1920s to work as a cook and housekeeper. In her late fifties, Hunter executed her first artwork—a painting of a baptism rendered on an old window shade using discarded paints left by a houseguest. This early experience blossomed into a lifelong artistic career, seeing Hunter paint hundreds of vibrant and abstracted scenes of everyday life drawn from her spirited memories of family, the Louisiana landscape, and the local community. Untrained, Hunter’s desire to create was wholly innate and internally driven. Her compositions, often repeated, horizontally stacked motifs, give us an intimate view into her world. Hunter lived these scenes—she worshiped with the community, she picked the cotton, she grew the vegetables, she celebrated with friends and family.

These two images are especially unique, as they deviate from Hunter’s memory paintings and represent the artist’s expert hand at abstraction. She intentionally removes details—facial features, the outlines of plants, a horizon line—and focuses on color, shape, and emotion.

Clementine Hunter, Fruits and Vegetables, undated. Oil on board. Transfers from LSU Libraries’ Special Collections Department.

Hunter’s cabin on Melrose Plantation, Louisiana, 2010. Photography by Billy Hathorn.


Malaika Favorite, Lessons from My Mother, 2019. Mixed media on canvas. Purchased with funds from the Manship Endowment for Acquisitions and Conservation, Beverly and Steven Heymsfield, and Salomia and Ben Jeffers.

Malaika Favorite creates a conversation between the viewer and her artwork. Her highly patterned canvases move with detail—there is always a new element to discover, a story to imagine. The surface is broken into vignettes of personal memories, reflections by Favorite on her mother, providing us an intimate view of their relationship.

Portrait of Malaika Favorite. Courtesy of the artist.

Favorite, a writer and artist living in Baton Rouge, graduated from Louisiana State University. She has worked full-time as an artist since 1995, dedicating her attention to honing her skills. She explores a variety of media to create her abstracted compositions, viewing finished works as concrete evidence of her wonder and amazement of the world around her. She states:

“It is very difficult to explain a work of art, mostly because the work is its own explanation. Art is not for the immediate audience only, if it was, it would be a prop or backdrop for a play, designed to be viewed for a limited time. Visual art should be timeless. It should speak to each generation, and to each viewer as an endless dialogue that continues to inspire, fascinate, and delight.”