
The more you move around “Color Cast,” the more this happens, a motion-triggered activation that suggests Kunz might collaborate brilliantly with choreographers. A sunflower-yellow floor square in the center of the gallery beckons looking up while standing atop it releases a cascade of sunshine from the cloth slung overhead. Walking around it leads to the peculiar experience of being between a painting and its faded double.

Then, suddenly, an air vent blows and a doorway aligns with the flutter of the southernmost banner. And ambitious: It takes a certain gumption to tackle the art center’s cavernous main gallery in any medium, but perhaps especially with good old-fashioned paint and canvas.
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They’ve come off the canvas and rolled out on to the floor one rectangle at a time, they’ve covered the walls and windows and hung in midair, tinting the daylight that shone through, but what Kunz has done at HPAC is something singularly expansive and glorious. Her experiments with color and shape have stretched as big as a billboard (for a banner hung outside the Smart Museum), as long as a hallway (for a group show at Gallery 400), and even as large as an entire pavilion (for the Franklin, a backyard gallery in Garfield Park, which she draped). Kunz, who was raised in Chicago, has done this before, but never on such a breathtakingly environmental scale. And Mayhew’s little Katie, who only once crosses the threshold of an abstract picture, finding herself in grave danger thanks to the slippery triangle in Kazimir Malevich’s “Dynamic Suprematism” of 1916. Pity the Hogwarts students, with no modern art in the castle. It’s like walking into one of Richard Diebenkorn’s graphic, airy “Ocean Park” paintings from the 1970s and being invited to stay.

Blush, tomato, buttercup, seafoam and other redolent shades cover the gallery’s 20-foot-tall walls, spread across the floors, and hang from the ceiling on immense fabric panels that sway and billow. Perhaps it depends on the type of artwork into which one goes. Unlike in the stories of Rowling and Mayhew, where mischievousness always reigns, being inside Kunz’s “Color Cast” feels calm and luminous and just a little bit dusty, with the world divided by soft geometry.
