Brooke Schutte’s works currently up at Gold City Gallery in El Dorado, Kansas, are a mix of self-reflective and darkly whimsical drawings and paintings exploring addiction and mental health. The solo exhibition, on view through July 31, will be the gallery’s final show before it closes.
Schutte notes in her artist’s statement that she hopes to “keep the subject matter light and playful — humorous and easy on the eye … while displaying (the subject matter) with bright vibrant, even whimsical imagery.”
She delivers with bold, honest imagery that is both arresting and fanciful.
One marker drawing titled “Youth Elixir” depicts a woman with a comical yet serious gaze framed by pink vining roses on a yellow ground. She wears a game-day ball cap equipped with a beer-guzzling kit, her face is fully painted, and her hair is in rollers. This woman means business. But does she really? Her brown eyes, complete with soft blue eye shadow and curled lashes, demonstrate attention to her appearance. But I wonder what this woman values, deep down, beyond the shenanigans she’s gearing up to participate in.
The title of the piece hints at the superficiality of it all: a person’s celebration amidst her desperation to regain something from her past. Yet the bright yellow background with a floral pattern that mimics the pale lilies and golden roses on her blue robe indicates a kind of richness that makes me want to lean in and have a conversation with her.
The notion of individuals containing multitudes echoes in other works by the artist.
“Pins and Needles,” also a marker on paper portrait of a woman, captures attention with geometric patterns in the background and the subject’s clothing that contrast with her piercing blue eyes that gaze intently to the upper right. Atop her head sits a tomato pincushion — something found in every grandmother’s sewing kit — and the colorful, quiltlike blocks of gingham, stripes, stars, and vegetation behind her harken to the world of crafts and pull the viewer into a past when precision and handiwork were paramount. Yet the subject’s blue hair and charm necklace situate the drawing in the present. Is the message that the past influences the present or that the present overshadows the past?
Schutte’s works are playful while pushing her viewers to ask questions about interconnectedness. Her painting “Ramen Kitty” puts lighthearted seeking and seeing front and center. Executing the composition in acrylic on a round wooden panel that mimics the shape of a large bowl, the artist depicts noodles, veggies, and eggs served up as if ready for dinner, but with a long-haired, multi-colored cat sprawled on top of the food. The color palette is rich with muted tones — browns and tans and rich ochres in both the meal and the cat — that invoke the flavors of ramen, and the aroma practically wafts off the surface.
Cats and ramen are comforting in different ways, yet both make the viewer want to curl up in a cozy corner, to sit and savor, whether it is quiet time spent with an animal or a warm bowl to shake off the chill of fall.
Animals show up repeatedly in Schutte’s works. Two paintings, “Are you a cat person?” and “Are you a dog person?,” reflect a similar hominess to “Ramen Kitty,” though their comfort is more about introspection — the titles ask for it, in fact. Schutte paints both pieces with acrylic on slices of tree trunks. One features an a black cat, and the other a black dog surrounded by brightly colored flowers, checks, and stars. The dog’s one visible eye has a starburst for a pupil, while the cat’s has three eyes, its black fur is covered in yellow stars. The various lotuses encircling the cat and the tulips and daisies around the dog, as well as the tulips in its mouth, are playful. But the nearly sinister smile of the dog and the cat’s third eye indicate that they are not going to let you off the hook.
The patterns, geometric shapes, and tessellations in these works suggest ruminating, obsessive thoughts, furthering Schutte’s intent to explore addiction and mental health. The painting “We Are All Cracked Pots” and drawing “The Promised Land” bring mathematical precision and alignment to an otherwise chaotic world. “We Are All Cracked Pots” is another round composition, painted to look like a stately dinner plate in shades of blue. A gray pair of arms holds a vase with a stylized human face and pink roses peeking out from the top. The painting’s mandala-like shape and pattern lend it a meditative, unified quality.
“Promised Land,” featuring a giant green stag beetle at the center of a geometric web of flowers and quiltlike diamonds, is hopeful and triumphant. Stag beetles often symbolize rebirth and renewal, as the insects develop underground and emerge in the summer months. The rich tones of red, gold, green, and blue and repeated patterns hint that things can get better after dormant months or even years.
Some of Schutte’s strongest pieces are intensely personal. “Self Portrait: 21 Yrs” and “Shit Post” are predominately blue, cave-like, and self-deprecating. In “Self Portrait: 21 Yrs,” Schutte depicts herself in the background, her face and head covered by a pillow in an unmade bed surrounded by empty bottles, discarded clothing, and an atmosphere of disquietude. Yet the giant squishy stuffed animal at her side, with a smile on its face, implies the potential for happiness.
“Shit Post,” rendered in tones of pink and red, depicts a figure seated on a toilet and looking up at the viewer with her tongue sticking out. It is as if the subject is at her lowest, in a dingy public bathroom with indecipherable graffiti and marred religious iconography on the walls. It is not an uplifting piece, yet it’s honest.
Schutte uses the precision of fine lines, bold strokes, and geometric patterns to depict the minuscule, yet her acrylic paintings and marker drawings hint at larger, more nebulous questions. You can catch Brooke Schutte’s solo exhibition of portraits, animals, sumptuous patterns, and brutal honesty through the end of the month.
This piece – originally written for The SHOUT – was first published on July 18, 2026. You can read the article on The SHOUT’s website by clicking HERE.
shelly. walston. writes. 