Artist Quaranto taps into her pain to find inspiration for creations

Swiss philosopher Henri-Frederic Amiel once said that the art of living is to make use of suffering.

It's fitting that Gina Quaranto, the woman who calls herself the "Switzerland of the local arts community," unintentionally adopted that approach to life three years ago and, in the process, discovered a creative style that became the foundation for her artwork.

Quaranto, the owner of Blackbird Studios in the Arts District, is well-known locally for her surreal, dreamlike paintings and mixed media art that hint at loss and heartbreak interspersed with moments of clarity and great joy.

The style came out of her attempt to deal with the frustrations in her life in 2008: the end of her marriage and her son Gabriel's newly diagnosed autism.

"It was such a trying time," says Quaranto, 32. "It doesn't seem like it now, because we seem so normal. But it was such a trying time. My art saved me. I would have gone crazy were it not for that."

Quaranto tells her story as Gabriel, 7, runs full speed through the gallery with Gia the dog at his heels. The boy laughs and pants with the exertion, stopping a few times to talk about his own art or answer a question about his mother's.

"I do art with Gina. I draw zombies," says Gabriel, a second-grader. "Zombies with guns."

He is polite and well-spoken. Twice, though, Quaranto must remind him to make eye contact when he speaks. It's the only indication of autism, a developmental disorder that affects communication skills. Still, he is excited to have visitors and intent on showing off his drumming skills by banging a rhythm on the lids of sealed paint cans.

When he was diagnosed at the age of 4, Gabriel was not nearly as engaged. The doctor predicted a bleak future in which her son wouldn't attend high school, get married or hold a job, Quaranto remembers. At almost the same time, she split with her husband and Gabriel's father, John Robison .

With only her art as a sounding board, Quaranto vented her frustrations onto canvas. The dreamy quality of her work came from imagining what the world looked like through her son's eyes.

"He had a crazy imagination and vivid dreams," she says.

The first painting in her new style, "Gabriel's Ladder to the Moon," depicts a vermilion sky above a bleak landscape dotted by lollipoplike trees. Two rabbits sit in the shadow of a ladder leading to a black moon.

It was inspired by Gabriel's first spontaneous words, spoken one night as Quaranto drove them home. He sat in the back seat, staring up at the moon, and said, "Gina, I think we should build a ladder to the moon."

Up to that point, Quaranto was known for her commercialized, mainstream artwork, which she started selling at First Friday in 2002. She painted a series of 26 paintings based on Gabriel's worldview, with no intention of showing or selling them.

"I was confused. Scared about his diagnosis. We had never heard the word autism before. So I just got into that little studio space and painted," Quaranto says, referring to the studio she once rented at Neonopolis. "I didn't care if people liked it. It wasn't for people to see, really."

But people did see it and they liked it. Nearly all of the paintings sold when she first exhibited them; there were a few she couldn't part with for sentimental reasons, Quaranto says.

Gregory Robinson, an English professor with Nevada State College, saw her unnamed series when it was first exhibited. Recently, Quaranto sold him one of her remaining orginals, "Gabriel's Park."

"I was captivated by it. She has this sort of dark blue that she uses, it's just beautiful," Robinson says. "There are these images of sparse landscape, almost like a dream narrative, very ethereal."

While painting the series was cathartic, Quaranto says, it wasn't until she saw the emotional impact they had on others that she realized she had discovered a lasting style.

Originally from Brooklyn, N.Y., Quaranto moved to Las Vegas with her family in the late 1980s. She graduated from Bonanza High School in 1996 and worked several jobs, saving up enough money to open a comic book store, The Bat Cave. That's where she met her ex-husband, who was a regular customer.

They closed the store after 9/11, so Quaranto devoted a couple of years to being a full-time wife and mother. It wasn't until she attended the inaugural First Friday in October 2002, that Quaranto realized she had been ignoring her artistic nature.

She began painting and sculpting again, selling her work on the street during First Friday events. From there, she moved into her studio space at Neonopolis for about a year. When that closed, Quaranto became curator and manager of Place Gallery on Main Street. There, she began to reach out to up-and-coming artists, providing them with a place to exhibit and studio space to rent. Most importantly, she encouraged and inspired other artists who needed guidance.

"She's always helping others. She tries to bring people together," says Gia Ray, 22, co-owner of Blackbird Studios. "She's always been like that. She wants to help the community and give artists a chance to show their work when they might not have another opportunity."

Ray met Quaranto about three years ago at First Friday. They became good friends; Ray says Quaranto is "like a sister to me."

Quaranto ran Place Gallery for about a year before a freak accident led to its closing. Last July, a transformer at a downtown NV Energy substation blew up, damaging several businesses nearby, including the gallery.

Luckily, the community rallied behind them, Quaranto says, and she recruited two partners, artists Ray and Jesse Smigel, to help her establish a new studio. The result was Blackbird, which opened in August.

Since then, the trio have worked to make Blackbird a gathering spot for artists and their supporters. One area of the gallery will be used to teach art classes. Quaranto devised a Friday night event called Drink and Draw, where artists can come in and work communally or feed off of the energy generated by a building full of creative people, Quaranto says.

"As business partners go, she is the yin to my yang," says Smigel, 27. "She's definitely a glass half-full kind of person, which works out well because I'm a glass half-empty kind of guy."

Running a gallery is hard work, especially during a bad economy, Quaranto says. But they are determined to make it work. Their success is important for the overall Arts District, which is still in its infancy stage.

"I've scratched and clawed my way to where I am today and I'm not giving it up," Quaranto says. "This is the ground floor. If other people want to move to other communities with an already established art scene, then fine. I'm staying here. Maybe when the history book is written, my name will be in it."

Contact reporter Sonya Padgett at spadgett@reviewjournal. com or 702-380-4564.