“It’s great to arrive back on this coast and reconnect with so many alums.  We’re all still doing art-related stuff,” Mostrom said.

After graduation, Mostrom and Steven Dixey decided, independently, to leave for the West Coast.  They “rediscovered” each other in San Francisco, only to split up once more before finally joining forces “for more adventures” in dear old Atlanta.  Jason Murphy and Katie Ridley, on the other hand, are now engaged -- to each other.

Matt Relkin, who’s been busy tracing battle lines in New York City, described his fight for “the great white hope” of so many aspiring artists and Broadway actors:  “For years, I was just another waiter, then a bartender, but you know… screw that!  Now I’m becoming a part owner of a bar.  It’s common to say, but the less time I spend in the kitchen the better for everyone.”

Relkin visits Atlanta to set up two exhibitions this month, the Ringling show at Beep Beep and a solo feature at Young Blood Gallery.  “See, I’m from Sarasota [Florida],” he said. “The college was always there, but now, it’s so interesting seeing how we all left school and the different directions we chose.”

One of Relkin’s Beep Beep entries is an image called B-83.  A falling nuclear missile bisects the night sky, cutting through naïve little clouds like a plummeting javelin.  Instead of exhaust, the warhead trails a rainbow.  Prismatic color erupts through the dull gray in a bouquet of mad delight.

As Relkin explained his work over the phone, I realized an artist’s career is a lot like the trajectory of a rocket.  I was inexplicably transported to childhood, the Fourth of July and the Saturn Missile Battery -- the king of five-dollar munitions.  The Saturn launcher is basically a jumbo-sized crayon box of miniature rockets that, once ignited, would scream into the night on dozens of crisscross paths to oblivion.

Just think of graduation like a mass rocket launch.  Career, romance, cross-country migration, etc.; although each artist in the Ringling group followed a unique flight path, the parallels are similar.  And that’s why Beep Beep Gallery is like a missile battery, an experimental launch site for rising talent.  Beep Beep isn’t exactly “underground.”  For better or worse, it’s more like ground zero.

“We have a different purpose here,” said Mark Basehore, part-owner. “The focus is on the art and not on just making money or just pleasing clients.”

As Beep Beep finishes its second year at its Midtown location, The Ringling Brothers is the latest in a salvo of group shows designed to maximize the nuanced similarities and contrasts between artists.  Although Beep Beep’s commitment to raw talent is a double-edged sword, the gallery can and does deliver quality work.

“Look at the Hense / Born show,” said Basehore, describing an exhibition last October. “There was this invisible line between the audience and the art, and it wasn’t because these guys are graffiti legends, it was because of the interest and respect people had for what they saw.”

And he’s telling the truth.  February’s two-man collaboration between Michi and Dosa Kim was dynamite, and last month’s show by Ann-Marie Manker and Jason R. Butcher resonated like an understated duet.  A six-artist show, on the other hand, is a little ambitious for such a small space.  Like a fistful of rockets in a bottle of Wild Turkey --who knows what’ll happen?

Will the artwork all look the same?  Will it contrast?  My ear was glued to the receiver. I enjoyed the artists’ quirky differences in perspective: Our stuff will always go together… I think everyone’s work is distinctive… Dixey and I get roped together a lot… But we’re all influenced similarly… Oh no, it’ll be a huge hodgepodge!

I don’t mean to undermine the artists’ intelligence.  The inconsistencies are interesting and -- for that matter -- essential to a show of this type.  The artists know each other’s work better than anyone; they identified thematic synergies I would’ve never noticed.

There’s a subliminal theme of eco-consciousness, for example, in the work of Relkin, Murphy, and Mostrom.  From Jason Murphy’s fantastical abandoned job sites to Matt Relkin’s sinister towers in the middle of the wilderness, the brainwaves here are tuned to the same frequency.

Sten Mostrom provides a fitting summary:  “We’ve been struggling with all the shit in the news about the planet, and we have to address the fact that there’s a time clock.  And now here it is -- brought to everyone’s attention.”

Observing these parabolic trajectories from a distance, I can’t help but want to see everything translated into paint.  Are they rising or descending?  If descending, should we expect a firecracker or a nuclear warhead?  And who, if anyone, has “detonated” prematurely?

A work of art, after all, is a permanent window in time -- a freeze-frame of one stage in an artist’s career. 

Show is at Beep Beep Gallery, which is located at 696 Charles Allen Drive in Atlanta. The exhibit opens Saturday August 9 and runs through September 7.