When I first heard about the painting process of Jeff Ostergren—how he uses various pills as part of his media repertoire-—had two very different thoughts: Prison Art and artist Fred Tomaselli. Artist prisoners who commonly use ground up medications, candy (i.e. Skittles), coffee grounds, or tea to make colors since art supplies are few and far between; and Tomaselli, since he once used pills and pot leaves to create some incredibly iconic work. It turns out Ostergren mixes medications and drugs into corresponding acrylic paint colors as a primary medium. It is a fascinating approach that elicits a number of thoughts, most of all in reference to the exhibition’s title. But I will get to that later. 

        To better understand the artist’s work, it helps to know a little about his technique. In the planning stages, Ostergren enters the proposed composition and imagery into a computer program in order to cut sections of vinyl masking. After the colors and corresponding medications are chosen, the artist selects a properly sized and shaped stamping tool that was cut with a CNC (Computer Numerical Control) router to print pill silhouettes onto the unmasked areas. As mentioned earlier, each color has the related drug ground up and added in, which on occasion makes the paint frothy, tend to crackle, or appear a bit granular. This all comes about after thinking through the intent of the work as it relates to the abundance of pharmaceuticals in most of our lives—and the not so subliminal inequitable ways in which we are exposed to the advertising and promotion of these drugs.

        The first art-related thing that comes to mind when entering this exhibition is Impressionism, specifically Pointillism. The two main Pointillists in the later part of the nineteenth century were Georges Seurat and Paul Signac, who each produced a number of “dot paintings” that culminated in a sort of stiffened lyricism. Inspired by the Pointillists, Ostergren borrows Seurat’s curly tailed monkey painted at the feet of a female figure in the bottom right of A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (1884-86)—a curious detail that he adds to his new painting, Tristes Nootropiques (2022), in the same general area.

        Within the long list of pharmaceuticals used to create Tristes Nootropiques are a number of Ayahuasca “tea” bits that, once ingested, bring on an intense hallucinogenic state for an extended period of time. This heavily altered mess of minds can be seen in a few of the figures represented, mainly the central one seated in an extended lotus position with four upward gesturing arms. The disorienting proportions of this field of figures, and the circular perspective employed, adds to the psychedelic effect of the predominantly warm colors, contrasting patterns, and floating shapes that fill the landscape.

        Ostergren reflects on very definite concerns about the direction our country is taking in works like Proposal for an Advertisement for an Abortion Pill (Woman with Parasol) (2023). Here, the artist makes a direct reference to Claude Monet’s painting, Woman with Parasol – Madame Monet and her Son (1875), while conspicuously removing the child on the hill from his own composition. Hence, the abortion pill reference—a choice no longer valid in 14 US states—now becomes a statement about inequality—as only someone with the leisure time to visit museums, those of higher socio-economic status, would even get the connection.

        The reference to big pharma advertising runs pretty much throughout the entire exhibition. How their proposed vision of peace, joy, and tranquility pervades pharmaceutical promotion that always culminates in a “problem-solved” or “problem-delayed” promise. That could also be why the artist often uses such rosy colors, implying the “seeing through rose-colored glasses” analogy. While some medications can be lifesaving, it is striking how dependent we have become to the perception that being moderately unhappy once in a while, for whatever reason, is not an option. We see this articulated in two paintings, Some tranquilizers over tranquilize, but on Stelazine she’s calm and alert and Tristes Nootropiques (White Heteronormative Million Dollar Family) (2022), where, again, the perfect leisurely life of sun, fresh air, flowers, and fun during self-directed rewarding times is yours for the asking. Then you get in close and start to notice the calamity in the patterning, the odd overpainting, and the relatively sharp edges where colors abruptly change and it all begins to unravel.

        The largest painting, and the centerpiece of the exhibition is Now…When Depression Keeps Your Patients Out of the Mainstream, Move Forward with Confidence (2024). This piece has all of the technical and aesthetic elements discussed, plus an overarching look at the entire industry and its supposed desired impression: researching, marketing, dancing, playing tennis, shopping, learning to ride a bike, or just easily moving about while nicely medicated—almost anything is in reach in the big pharma domain. The one thing you do n ot see is anyone operating heavy machinery or driving a car.

Then there is the background—a definite, slowly ascending spotted stream of color moving everyone along in the picture plane from left to right, save one large relatively still individual in the center of the composition. The only one with a shadow—which seems to indicate solidity—they are designated as a fully present person with all their mental and physical states raw and unmedicated. Here, the artist reminds us with this clever juxtaposition, that the US is the largest market for pharmaceuticals, and so few of us can function or live without it.

D. Dominick Lombardi is a visual artist, art writer, and curator. A 45-year retrospective of his art recently traveled to galleries at Murray State University, Kentucky in 2019; to University of Colorado, Colorado Springs in 2021; and the State University of New York at Cortland in 2022.