Reflections
by Julie | 05 19 2009“Sometimes the reflection is far more impressive than the thing being reflected.” -from Limits of Control by Jim Jarmusch
There is a common device I use in my installations: I place a found object (beat-up furniture, scrap wood, old typewriter) in a space and draw attention to its shadow or reflection. I usually make the shadow out of something that looks like it could just be a product of light, having no substance, but upon further inspection it is made from solid material. This is often thick black house paint, collaged materials painted black, or my favorite, black pleather contact paper. The contact paper is especially meaningful to me because it is not only representing a representation of an object (the shadow cast by a chair for example), but being pleather, it is also by nature a representation of leather. How meta! (I joke, but really.)
I don’t know if my obsession with shadows comes out my art school training, which for the past 20 years has placed great emphasis on the importance of negative space, or if it comes from my obsession with film noir, German expressionism, and live theater? Probably a little of both. Negative space is a formal issue that makes the artist consider the space around a subject as equally important as the subject itself. To me the negative space or cast shadow often becomes the subject. Dramatic film and theater are stylistic choices that bring an element of danger, despair, humor, and self-consciousness to its viewers. Perhaps daily goings on are just less interesting to me than what is reflected when I shine a light on them.
Everyday I walk down Pine Street past the bars, past the dog park. I cross over the roaring highway and the first thing I see is a beacon of this very topic: It is the side of the historic Paramount Theatre looking like it was suddenly separated from it’s family, a strange gray cement wall with fire escape and evenly placed windows from top to bottom. Below each window is a perfectly made organic soot mark which I assume is caused by the rain, but looks like it was theatrically and intentionally placed there. It looks like a model for a building rather than a building itself. There’s something artificial about it and now that I’ve had this thought I can’t look at it without thinking it’s part of a very elaborate Seattle stage set, welcoming me into work each morning. Though the architecture is lovely and old, I’m more interested in what it has become for me in my imagination. The building will never just be itself; it will always resemble itself and serve as a symbol for my daily morning walks.
I always search for the seams and the dark underbelly of people and things. I’m moved by contrast and conflict. In spite of the fact that I will never be able to get away from formal issues like negative space, I can emphasize cast shadows and their distorted abstract qualities. This way I will be able to satisfy my obsession with drawing and painting issues that have been so rigorously drilled into me while communicating something emotional, psychological, and humorous.
