THE LONG, TEDIOUS TASK OF WATING – Amanda Gresik
Many people have experienced what it is like to go into a hospital waiting room, either for themselves or to accompany a friend or family member. While trying to pass the time by flipping through magazines and filling out forms, it is hard to not feel anxious and overwhelmed. Amanda’s work is based off of her own experiences and explores the tedious nature of being in a waiting room.
She uses ‘Whitework’ which is a traditional type of embroidery that has been practiced throughout history to document and celebrate important events in people’s lives. With white linen fabric and cotton thread, she re-creates the waiting room environment, focusing on items on gathers while starring at the nearby clock. Throwaway paper objects turn into heirlooms, documenting an important through tedium filled chapter of her life.
What I liked about this installation, was that it ended up being a place for individuals to sit and talk. The familiarity of the ‘wait room’ interior design brought people in, not to just wait, but to also rest from the overwhelming crowd.
RAT’S NEST SKATEPARK by Oasis Skateboard Factory (OSF)
For Come Up To My Room 2017, the Oasis Skateboard Factory will transport visitors to a post-apocalyptic skateboard park that has been taken over by gangs of skateboarding rats. Where some schools have tigers or eagles as mascots, OSF feels more kinship with rats- social outcasts who are clever and resourceful. We’ve created a space that while grimy and unappealing to some serves as a sanctuary to every teen “skate rat”.
Using a mix of street art and skateboard culture contrasted with art gallery conventions, student will tell a story that conveys years of decay and infestation of an abandoned skate park turned gallery.
The sheer attention to detail throughout this installation makes you stop and look. Look around, look up and notice things that you might not if you rush this experience. Yes, it’s a rat’s haven for skateboards, and it does give off that vibe very well, but it also brings me back to the days of Nirvana and grunge. The fort-like structure begs for children to climb, create and imagine a world where the rats and skateboarders rule.
HOTHOUSE by Grove Collective
Hothouse is a garden of mechanical flowers that open when “watered” with the correct gesture sequence, offering a seed copy of their plans for anyone to take. The flowers clatter, delicate and awkward, to evoke a sense of delight and unease in their audience.
Reproducible yet fragile, once any given flower is built, it starts to decay. Each piece is recyclable or biodegradable, intended to fall to pieced within fifty years. Their electronics will be obsolete almost before installation is complete, their software subject to endless change and debate in a precarious economy. They can grow only when protected.
The installation comments on “walled gardens” in intellectual property arenas, a publishing conceit that locks allowable device software. Like hothouses, walled gardens protect at a cost of fragility.
With this installation, you don’t quite know what you are walking into. The black light makes you think that something is going to be revealed with this cloak. But in actually it’s the subtle movement of the flowers. You don’t know they move until you take the time to admire the gardens. It’s only in those contemplative moments when the flowers let you know of their presence and open and close for you.
MEMORIES RELOCATED by Kaitlyn Bourden
Memories relocated is an installation of collected and fabricated pieces of furniture. The room’s walls and floor are completely coated in a layer of latex rubber. This rubber membrane stretches around the furniture and encases it, completely immersing the viewer in a bizarre landscape of treasured and distorted memories. “These memories come in the shape of furniture from my past that has significance to me in someway. The work is a mix of both collected and fabricated pieces of furniture. Objects and furniture I remember from m childhood, relative’s houses, friends, and school. I’m interested in the fantasized ideas that come with creating objects from memory, in the displacement and manipulation of memory and how fragile this state can be.”
The smell of latex is very overwhelming in this room. The rubber texture begs for an elastic interaction with the room. But, unfortunately it’s just the substance to pull the memoratic pieces to the wall. I remember trying something like this back in high school. I wanted the look of something coming out of a solid material. It was hard to achieve at the time because of the limitation of the plastic used. What I admire about this installation is the effort it took to pull and put things into place. To create familiar forms coming out of the wall to provoke old and new memories for the visitor.
QUEER ARMY by Rey Midax
This installation takes current events into consideration such as the conflicts in Syria and the war on terrorism and transplants those visuals into a celebration of inclusiveness, plurality and acceptance. The Queer Army is a symbol of the war effort for peace and how we understand those concepts from a safe distance while camouflaging violence into a tutti-frutti coating. A veil that has transformed news into entertainment, and violence into a domestic staple. I believe Queer culture represents a hope, a light amongst this darkness. An openess that we should all embrace. If you dare, you’ll find them hidden- but vigilant- towards the end of the installation.
If someone didn’t tell me that there was more on the 3rd floor I would have never have gone up here. This queer space is amazing. And I wasn’t the only one to think so. Despite the strong political message of terrorism and queer culture solving it. The sheer size and attention to detail is unbelievable. The artist has been able to make war look more colourful and peaceful. If it was possible and acceptable in society, I would definitely wallpaper my “accent wall” with one of the large panels. It’s breathtaking and beautiful. Who would have though war could ever look like this.