'The Architect (Agent of Chaos #1)'. By Chet Zar. Courtesy of the artist and Copro Gallery.

‘Chaos’ by Chet Zar @ Copro Gallery

October 12, 2021

What is the sense of gloom? Does it invoke despair, of a forlorn realization, demotivating the inner spirit to continue to propel itself towards some certainty about its place? Does gloominess signify a dissatisfaction in the present yet also indicate a pessimism about the future? No doubt Mr. Chet Zar in his Chaos opening provides us with a tantalizing exhibition of gloomy portraitures – certainly not ones we’d expect when we imagine the idea of happiness. Then again, how often are our ideas misguided?

‘The Architect (Agent of Chaos #1)’. Oil on Panel. By Chet Zar. Courtesy of the artist and Copro Gallery.

Am I then to suggest that the perditious attitudes in the portraitures lack happiness? The Architect (Agent of Chaos #1), the keystone in Mr. Zar’s latest series of works, can’t help but smirk. At something sinister, though? He certainly can’t be satisfied in some regenerative harmony. But why not? Yes, the inferno has its roots in the sentiment of righteous fury against the wicked and their smiles. And yes, too, Mr. Zar’s works signify a nether-worldliness with his dark hues and altitude of the distinctly inescapable bright oranges which draws out a new color from his historically muted moribund fantastical palettes – particularly the magma-blood outpouring in Bat Eyes (Agent of Chaos #10). But why can’t ugly things be kind and generous? Are we too quick to judge?

‘Bat Eyes (Agent of Chaos #10)’. Oil on Panel. Courtesy of the artist and Copra Gallery.

We, for instance, have no impressions of evil doings, of innocent sufferings, demonstrated in the portrayals. Instead, we have our precarious and trepidatious appraisal of horror fantasy. That which invokes the sensation of fear, and then ultimately a regard for our lives. That spark plug of survival, which compels us to see another day, is willfully confronted with such ghoulishness. Especially since the works give us the impression of an unstoppable predatory power – one which we are hopeless to overcome. But why not? Why can’t we contest The Architects machinations? Yet again why should we?

‘Pink Death (Agent of Chaos #7)’. Oil on panel. Courtesy of the artist and Copra Gallery.


Fear of ideas which do not originate in ourselves, of those which are inconceivable yet necessarily effects what we will become, perhaps gives us that titillating sense of fear when we see Pink Death (Agent of Chaos #7). Certainly, this has a greater connotation of grimness then of mirthfulness. But why must we perceive a fellow with his mouth dripping blood red as not someone who has eaten a fine steak rare? Perhaps he failed to develop an appetite for cooked meats and instead prefers the efficiency of eating straight from the carcass? Why must we be afraid of the chaos, in other words? It must be because it is beyond our control, and thus there is a sense of distrust in the design – with the fear of a road leading to ruin.


One ought not to be excited to meet this stranger in a blind alley, but it might be best to greet him and ask him what he had for dinner rather than to be close-minded and be prejudicial about his excited anticipation for damnation. For his plane of existence resides beyond good and evil. An impartiality in the judgment of chaos will yield more inner satisfaction and therefore more human dignity. It’s best, therefore, to let God be the judge of all souls rather than ourselves.



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