Evening Ferry by Frances Quinlan
International Bar
1624 N Front St.
Philadelphia
June 26, 2026
Frances Quinlan of Philly indie heroes Hop Along will have work hanging on the walls of The International Bar on Front and Cecil B. from now until the end of July. In line with my continued effort to seek new kinds of experiences, I took myself on a brief solo date to check out the show, entitled Evening Ferry, and hopefully to chat with the artist. The place was packed to the gills when I pulled up, the bar filled with the typical Front St. weekend warriors as well as Quinlan’s friends and acquaintances alike. After catching up with some music friends also there to check out the show, I got to ask Quinlan a little about the pieces on display and their arts background.
Quinlan, a MICA painting graduate raised by printmakers, offers fluid and expressive depictions of various sunrises and sunsets painted while in quarantine in 2020. The show is a combination of original drawings and prints of larger drawings and paintings catalyzed by a singularly striking sunset witnessed on a ferry ride taken with friends that year, becoming a thematic practice powered by isolation, memory, and the need for present connection with the natural world. When I caught up with them, we discussed the challenges underneath something as seemingly simple and therapeutic as painting sunrises and sunsets.
“It’s hard to convey sunrises and sunsets in a way that feels unique, or feels necessary even, because they’re beautiful by themselves,” Quinlan explained mindfully. These works, resultantly, are the attempt to depict a memory before it becomes one, and are injected with experimentations of “deliberate failure,” as Quinlan explores the possibilities that arise after the acceptance of the attempt’s futility. For instance, a number of the sunsets have been done in black, the scurrying lines and sometimes violent motion in each work not necessarily representing a storm or an overcast day, but instead an attempt to draw out the “terrifying power” of a sunrise and sunset. Throughout the works of this show, Quinlan works to convey that terrifying power, re-contextualizing each morning and evening as “the sky being on fire.” In ways, I get the vibe, though I never would have been led to any of these conclusions on my own. The way some of these works flip the meaning of a sunrise and a sunset isn’t unlike the eerie effect caused by a solarized picture, or simply at a film negative of an image. The image takes on a sort of demonic, violent quality. When you consider pollution, tornadoes, and lightning, it’s kind of wild to remember that the sky can kill you if it wants to.
I could never say I’m unaware of the unique power of a Philly sunset. Those evenings where our Instagram feeds are full of pictures of the pink clouds that define our summers, and everyone posting things like “Everyone go outside and look at the sky right now,” were, in 2020, some of the only interpersonal connections that we were allowed to have. We can never forget that we are of the Earth and to it we will once again return, and moments like that which create a togetherness and connectivity of human experience are obviously the foundation of art. It’s a definitive *chef’s kiss* moment of life itself when you go outside after an overcast or stormy day and there’s all kinds of light reflecting crazy colors off of the clouds, or maybe even a double rainbow. Though the former is definitely because of chemical contamination in the air, what is more Philadelphian than romanticizing the effects of our own pollution?
