‘Extinguisher’ gallery wrestles with extinction, but offers hope

Whales called out.

Crashing waves could not mute their sound.

More whales called. A mother possibly searching for her calf. A call to the pack. An alarm to society, more than likely.

A roaring wave joined the call. Whales and the ocean spoke as one communicating to the rest of humanity.

At Joshua Tonies’s Art Gallery, Extinguisher, students at Southwestern College were greeted by a siren sound. The noise spoke to future artists, enticing them to come in. A sense of urgency moved visitors around the room before sitting to listen to the call. Euphoric waves crashed alerting the future generation to wake up. Students surveyed the depths of society’s assault on nature.

“Awareness,” said Jimmy Evans. He counted heads and watched student’s curiosity aroused by the call. Viewing Joshua Tonies’s Gallery was like seeing leftover waste, he said.

Film student Aaliyah Anderson saw something else.

“Intricate,” she said. “Tonies’s pieces of art were unique and expressed individuality.”

Extinguisher created an experience that appealed to younger, curious emotions. Dark paintings on the wall exposed secrecy. Students looked deeper trying to find the light in each image. Eyes stared intensely while moving through the room. Observers huddled around a 3D image of a deformed soda bottled, shifting through time and space. An evolution of life and carelessness left viewers uneasy.

Trees and nature were the beginning of Joshua Tonies’s journey. Living in gritty Akron, Ohio increased his natural interest for ecology. Recycling, pollution and waste are the back drop of his perspective on the environment, he said, still forming his worldview. Some of his childhood drawings and stories seemed ecological.

“A place of exploration and discovery,” he said.

Living in San Diego and seeing more of a garden city broaden his point of view, he said. Ideas like the enchanting landscape of San Diego County encouraged him to be more aware of his surroundings.

He pondered the existence of city. He wondered if it should exist, since 70 percent of its water supply is imported from the Colorado River.

“A strange phenomenon,” he said.

Bizarre has refuge in Tonies’s art. Students questioned the how and why of gridded images.  They made the best effort to connect to what they were experiencing through Tonies’s eyes. Black and gray art hung across the room. Like dark clouds from a fire polluting the air and shadows from older ones remaining from the damage. Sloppy black paint splashed across the screen where the whales continued to cry. Ocean rumbles created a white noise. A comforting sound in the midst of what felt like chaos. A moment of silence during a storm.

Last November, Tonies’s doctor found a tumor in his skull. It grew in his ear and branched out to his brain.  It destroyed his eardrum and hearing bones, and affected his facial nerve. Tonies said he was fortunate to have his doctor build a new eardrum and synthetic hearing bones, gifting him the ability to hear again.

“It was going to kill me,” Tonies said.

It couldn’t.

Tonies could only hear out of one ear after surgery, he said. As his body was recovering, the appeal of sounds triggered him to think of ways the movement of sound waves could be visualized through drawing and animation.  His connection to the soundscape allowed him to listen in a way that he couldn’t previously.

His damaged ear improved from 12 percent hearing to 85 percent. Once again able to hear birds and distant sounds, the texture of life increased his enjoyment, wonder and curiosity. He developed a new appreciation for the world.

“It’s kind of amazing that all of these different animals can thrive in such a hostile place,” Tonies said.

Mammals find food, have babies and survive through their environment while it’s decaying from changing climate. Tonies said he found hope in the chaos.

“Living things on this planet are very resilient and we can learn from them,” he said. “Transformation.”

Captured in art.