To me, each of these pieces focuses on the “internal” vs. the “external.” As a compilation, the pieces seem to peel back a layer of our private lives, or show the boundary between what is internal and what is felt. Almost every piece in this collection relies on holes, gaps, or physical spaces, in one way or another.
Jiab Prachakul
I am deeply moved by this work of art, and by this artist’s body of work as a whole. Her work is incredibly compelling, and she has a strong artistic signature, which is always very worth noting to me.
I am interested in the disjointed nature between these two scenes. Each could exist without the other and remain interesting to me, but putting them into conversation with each other is intriguing. The clinical, cold porcelain of the toilet contrasted against the warmth of her skin and the soft, heavy drape of the robe is gorgeous. The way the sunlight edges across the wooden floor and the side of the toilet creates a cinematic stillness. And I am disoriented, which I love. I am trying to figure out, if the sunlight on the wall behind her is coming from the open window, which I’m certain it is, where is she in relation to the bathroom? This feels important. The two panels are clearly separate, the direction of the floor tells us that, but linked, in dialogue for one reason or another.
It makes me think of transitions, recurring activities (I almost said rituals, but is peeing a ritual? Because that is what I’m thinking of. And I’m going to say for most people, no, it is not a ritual. But habitual. Sometimes annoying). And here, on this particular toilet, we have this window right in our face if you’re sitting. And yet, I can imagine the fresh air feeling, maybe a beautiful courtyard to look out on, or a tree or some scene in nature, and the inconvenience of navigating the window feels worth it.
But it also occurs to me that the view outside could be right into someone else’s house, and that this could a be a leak of the external world into her private ritual. And if it is this, and the sunlight from the bathroom window reaches all the way to where she is now, she feels vulnerable and exposed to me.
Is ritual the right word? Can ritual be annoying? More ritualistic, perhaps, is the woman in the robe. Robes feel luxurious, even if they’re not. Maybe only in that they honor the transition. They allow for the time between getting up and getting showered. Or showering and dressing.
And by pairing her with the bathroom scene (hygiene, vulnerability, ritual, annoyance) the artist captures a “pre-social” self. Except that we are in on it, and the subject seems keenly aware of us. In fact, it’s not just that she’s resigned, which is sort of the expression I read on her face, it is that she is witnessing our intrusion, and allowing it, if perturbed.
More of her work can be seen here: https://www.jiabprachakul.com/
Carmella Karijo Rother
I really love knots. I love the act of knotting, I love the uneven bulge of knots, I love the density and compactness of them. Made even more compact here by being squished within a frame.
The beauty lies in the organized chaos of the knots. They are fighting against the rigid, clean lines of the wooden frame, looking like they might spill out if you loosened a single thread. It’s the visual equivalent of a deep, heavy breath held in the chest.
If I curated this work with the one above for a residential space, I think I would write a curatorial narrative around knotting (is her bathrobe in a knot?).
A knot is essentially stored energy. Perhaps because of that, this piece has a real weight to it. Or a pressure, like all of that compression is holding the piece taut. Maybe the weight of our internal history, all of our experiences knotted together to form the texture of who we are today.
The shadows here are really substantive to me as well. They make me aware that these knots continue on below the surface of what we can see. They intersect and attach and meld. We are an ecosystem. A collection of private rituals, thoughts, filtered emotions.
More of her work can be seen here: https://www.ckrother.com/
Eric Wall
If our histories are as dense and knotted as Rother’s work could suggest, then this piece moves towards a sliver of an opening, a peek beneath the surface.
While the blue slashes, and the sense of rippling canvas catches your attention, the real beauty for me is the glow from behind. I am compelled by the way the warm, fiery oranges and ambers peek through the cool, industrial blue. I read it almost like a sunset seen through a privacy fence.
I’ve become very interested in works behind works. I love the element of obstruction. What does the artist choose to reveal through the top layer, and what can only be glimpsed at through the right craning of your neck?
This effect of being walled off from the whole, this almost irritating need to see behind something is of course the whole point. Also, because the background is blurred and abstract, I get the feeling that clarity is simply not on the table. You have to accept the beauty of what is known, and the beauty of what is unknown.
I am carrying with me a tension as we move through these pieces, and this piece is where it surfaces. I can almost see the top layer ripple with the effort of being the gatekeeper. That the blue material is not tightly stretched, that is almost loose enough that you could spread two vertical sections apart and peek in, somehow makes the agitation of not seeing fully even more pronounced.
I am constantly looking for tension in an artwork because to me it proves that it can sustain long viewing, different moods, and continue to hold your attention through many phases of life.
I think this is true of people too. I have found that my relationships where there has been tension or conflict which we worked through and navigated, are my most trusted connections. I trust the integrity of our relationship because we can withstand what the other really needs to say, we can withstand disagreement and friction without collapsing.
This piece embodies that and it makes me wonder: Are we defined more by what we reveal or do not reveal?
More of his work can be seen here: https://www.ericwall.org/
Katarina Abovic
Here we have almost the opposite, almost a reprieve. These pieces are airier, spacious.
I love the way the faces are constructed from rigid, icy geometric shards, only to have that hardness dissolve into the fluid, organic motion of the birds. I love the density of the figures set against the background which feels gravity-less and floating. The soft, dusty palette keeps the geometry of it from feeling aggressive. In fact, I have the sense that everything here is working in perfect order. And while there is something slightly disturbing here, slightly inhuman or sci-fi, the expression on their faces are so at ease.
To me this is all about what is unspoken. For the most part, I would say what needs to be communicated between these two has been. I would say that because they look at peace. They are allowing their thoughts to free flow out of their heads and drift off.
By splitting the heads onto two canvases, the artist creates a literal gap in the middle. That empty space is the pause in a conversation or the disconnect between our logical mind and our emotional mind.
I am also very aware of the geometry that makes up the majority of piece. Geometry to me is always about calculation, control and order. Trying to make sense. And again, I’m confronted by the peace and calm on these faces. And with their heads slightly bowed they look reverent.
More of her work can be seen here: https://www.katarinaabovic.com/collections
Gretta Louw
And then this beautiful, gradient textile piece that feels ethereal yet earthy. This intricate lattice. This reminds me of root vegetables. And biology. The bruised palette feels delicate, yet almost heavy. The contradictions and tensions here are amazing. How is it both grounding and wispy?
The gradient from that bruised, floral magenta into the deep, oceanic blue is sophisticated to me. I love the fragility of the thread-work, the way the lines almost look like veins or the edges of a cell under a microscope.
I love the form dissolving into non-form. The way some flowers are clearly defined, thanks mostly to the thin threads sewn on top, and other blobs remain shapeless, amorphous, defined only by their edges and the negative space that gives this piece structure.
Because we are talking about themes of internal vs external, this feels to me like the subconscious. This tangled, interwoven, delicate but grounded form. Also, because I read it as root vegetables.
More of her work can be seen here: https://grettalouw.com/index.php
I started with the idea of an internal and an external, but that distinction feels less stable now. The boundary is porous. It leaks. Light travels further than expected. Private moments are never entirely contained.
What feels more true is that we are constantly negotiating, moving between the tangled, sometimes bruised roots of the subconscious and the sharp, bright, sometimes invasive sunlight of the bathroom window.
And maybe the work is not to resolve that tension, but to develop a sensitivity to it. To notice where something is pressing up against the surface, asking to be seen.
—Delia