The Pulse of Chords

Banner image: Kuruneru, Shawn. Gallery view, left to right: Untitled (red, purple), 2025, acrylic on canvas, H 20 x W 20 inches; Untitled (Light Blue), 2025, acrylic on canvas, H 48 x W 20 inches; Untitled (Alizarin, Peach, Light Yellow), 2024, acrylic on canvas, H 72 x W 48 inches. Photos courtesy of David Petersen Gallery. 

 

Shawn Kuruneru’s solo exhibition Chords, now on view at David Petersen Gallery through August 16, taps into the pulse of the human unconscious through a series of sharp, intuitive paintings. Channeling the energy of mindless play, Kuruneru creates work that feels both immediate and layered. His process sparks something uncanny in viewers—a phenomenon gallery owner David Petersen describes through the term “pareidolia,” meaning, the tendency to see meaningful images in random forms, like a face in a cloud or a man on the moon. Chords doesn’t tell us what to see. Instead, Kuruneru sets the stage for perception itself, inviting us to find our own patterns in his peculiar forms. 

True to Petersen’s interpretation, I found myself searching for patterns throughout the show. It’s fitting that both the making and viewing of Chords feels involuntary. Kuruneru freehands each shape. No tape, no stencils—just hand, eye, and canvas. The result is a body of work that is both spontaneous and precise, leaving it open to endless interpretation.

He hasn’t always painted like this. When Kuruneru first exhibited at David Petersen Gallery in 2014, his solo show, Landscapes, featured ink-poured paintings tied to his drawing practice, a notable departure from the work currently on view. In Chords, color, shape, and gesture come together, front and center, in a style that feels fully realized—seasoned, confident, and entirely its own. 

Eight paintings are on view. The shapes oscillate between geometric and organic. Polygons are scattered throughout the exhibition, each bearing a point, an edge, and a curve. Melting parallelograms, stretched, wacky forms, both rounded and angular, are the shapes you will find in Kuruneru’s paintings. 

 

Gallery view, Untitled (Alizarin, Peach, Light Yellow), 2024, acrylic on canvas, 72 x 48 inches.

I stood first in front of Untitled (Alizarin, Peach, Light Yellow). The maroon forms align on the left like vertebrae. The rest is covered in fleshy pink orbs, and free floating yellow blobs. Up close, I see that Kuruneru does not prime his canvas. The paint soaks into the fabric, very Frankenthaler-esque. The balance between color and void is exacting, but it doesn’t feel calculated. It feels ordained. 

Untitled (Black, Red, Peach, Green), 2025 acrylic on canvas, 24 x 36 inches. 

 

Only one painting breaks the vertical rhythm of the show. While all of the paintings in Chords follow a vertical, portrait orientation, Untitled (Black, Red, Peach, Green) hangs in landscape. Its fire-hydrant red and turquoise palette seems tropical, familiar, yet slightly off. Like a dream you’re not sure was real. Peterson pointed out a shape near the upper center, calling it “duck-like.” At that moment, I caught the outline of a pig in Untitled (Alizarin, Peach, Light Yellow). These spontaneous sightings underscore the pareidolic impulse.

The smallest and only square piece in the show, Untitled (Red, Purple), measures just 20 by 20 inches. 

Untitled (Red, Purple), acrylic on canvas, 20 x 20 inches. 

 

It’s bright and dense. A tiny red dot near the center catches my eye. Is it an accident? Was this planned? Either way, it breaks the surface tension, a charming interruption—and I find myself smiling. 

At the far end of the gallery, two larger works seem to be in conversation. Untitled (Beige, Peach, Green, Turquoise) and Untitled (Blues, Red-Brown, Pink, Grey, Black). I think of them as twins with different temperaments. The former is light, the latter is dense. They share size, layered shapes, soft bleeds, and atmospheric elements. Petersen tells me their pairing happened during installation, and it feels right. Together, they anchor the room.

Gallery view, left to right: Untitled (Beige, Peach, Green, Turquoise), 2025, acrylic on canvas, 48 x 36 inches and Untitled (Blues, Red-Brown, Pink, Grey, Black), 2025, acrylic on canvas, 48 x 36 inches. 

 

“This show isn’t trying to trick you,” Petersen explains. Chords is formal, focused, and sharp. It resists didacticism in favor of visual and personal resonance. 

Kuruneru’s work stands out not because it rejects current trends, but because it reminds us what painting can still do. 

At a time when much of today’s art turns toward digital tools, augmented reality, AI, and generative media, Kuruneru remains committed to the physical presence of hand-painted abstraction. His work engages our oldest technology: the human psyche. Chords invites us to slow down and pay attention to how we see. Whether it’s faces in clouds or constellations in the sky, the power of shape, color, and suggestion hasn’t faded. Kuruneru’s paintings remind us that the gallery wall, like the sky, still leaves space for curiosity and imagination. ◼︎ 

 

Chords is on view at David Petersen Gallery through August 16.

To learn more about Shawn Kuruneru, visit his website or follow him on Instagram @shawnkuruneru.

All photos courtesy of David Petersen Gallery