July 2011
BLOOMINGTON: Leah Gauthier
Here in Bloomington there is room to grow. And so I do, at home and in a community garden. Growing food is a mindful act. Spring: sloppy, wet, cold to muggy, soggy. Summer: lush, balmy to scorching, bone dry. Soil of clay, hungry, thick, heavy, hard on hands and roots. Earthworms, chipmunks, rabbits, flea beetles, Japanese beetles, lady bugs, slugs, robins, blue jays, cardinals, morning doves, house finches, Carolina chickadees and neighborhood cats among the host of creatures sharing our ground. Too late with cabbage, peas on time, out with lettuce, in with peppers, more compost here, less water there, who’s been eating my eggplant! As if anything is mine to own. Frost to frost, listening, tasting, touching smelling, tinkering, witnessing moment by moment, fragility and wonder.
These tiny sculptures were fashioned with vegetables from my garden. I will continue making and posting throughout the course of this exhibition.
BROOKLYN: Sara Jones
The thing I notice about the place I live is what I notice everywhere I go: There is an impermanence to our built environment. Structures that are familiar, comforting, and seemingly stable can disappear without warning. Where I grew up, the impermanence was most often caused by natural disasters like hurricanes, tornadoes, and floods. Here, I walk to my studio and observe a similar impermanence as a result of “progress.” This series of paintings documents the change in my neighborhood in Brooklyn due to the development of Atlantic Yards and the erection of a new basketball stadium. There is now a gigantic hole in the ground where the buildings in this series once stood. I captured these structures in their last days, during various stages of deconstruction, and the thread I incorporate into the paintings reflects a futile effort to repair and buttress something I ultimately can’t control.
KYIV: Andrea Wenglowskyj
My photographs are lying to you. They don’t represent this city or my impressions. You won’t see the contradictions I see on the streets and they can’t help you imagine the stories I would share with you about my time in this country. They don’t showcase anyone’s struggles or social interactions, the bliss of new experiences, the people I miss or my new friends. They represent the silence which I seek outside of the city; a silence that I come close to finding. At the moment of potential discovery, I press the shutter and it clicks. As a willing foreigner in a new country my daily life is intensified, sounds are amplified, tastes have new associations, smells are smelly and therefore silence is for later. The search continues.
