"Earth Skins: Three Decades of Drawing by Susan Wood", is a sensitive display of drawings and sketches, none of which are have a barrier of glass or frame to distance the viewer from examining them closely. The portrayals of dead birds and mermaid's purses, dying flowers and women's gowns are so beautifully rendered, and seeing them exposed on the paper adds to the intimacy of the exhibit. So much trust is implied in showing the work this way, I feel it's preciousness must be better appreciated.
Still on the theme of mortality, and possibly morbidity, is the exhibit "Any Sharp Knife Will Do", Curated by Jeff Nye, Installation by Seema Goel and Lee Henderson. A
fascinating variety of quotes on the subject of taxidermy, death, and
hunting adorn the blackened walls. In recessed cubbyholes, with wee
lights operated by the viewer, are the heads of mice, mounted, as trophy
heads are. Another room shows images of more traditional mounted game
with the view through a camera's viewfinder superimposed over the image;
the animals posed ready to be "shot", as it were by a camera. Staring
at these images from the floor of the room are three taxidermic dogs
observing the images of the mounted game heads. I stared each dog down
just to creep myself out a bit. It worked. I don't think I will ever
need to immortalize a pet in such a way!
The third and most exciting exhibit to me, and the one amongst which I'd like to set up housekeeping is "Where Rivers Meet Sea", by Lyndal Osborne. Oh my!, the collections of things are mind boggling!
I wish The Rooms website had sneak peeks of the items on display,
because they are intriguing in the extreme. Osborne was artist in
residence for a time at Gros Morne National Park,
and also spent time in Australia. She collected natural and manmade
objects that accumulate as detritus in the natural world, specifically
along shorelines. The quantity is staggering! And it's sorted
methodically and with great attention to pattern and form into bowls, or
on platters. These have been set amongst a "river" of empty clear
glass jars that wind along the floor throughout the space. (My initial
{suppressed, obviously} instinct upon entered the gallery was to run
kicking through the jars for the sheer clatter and chaos of it!) In a
few cases she's added a bit of paint to some leaves or pods, for a
cohesiveness of colour, but mostly the objects are left in their natural
state. There's even a faint but distinct aroma of being in a room so
very full of bits of nature. Possibly it's the exoticism of the natural
objects from Australia, but I think it has more to do with the
meticulous sorting of so many little things, that draws you in, to
examine the details of each.
And what,
in all of this, has inspired me? Well those of you who know me, will
already get it. I enjoy the repetition and detail in nature, flawless
and never-ending, a cycle repeated each season. Although my companion
is also a collector of sorts, I am more exuberant in my enthusiasm for
treasures found. So for the sake of harmony in my home, I most often
bring back photographs of these natural objects, rather than the objects
themselves. Recently in my tramping about in the world, I've shifted
my lens from the ever-fascinating world of fungi, to the variety of seed
pods that in this fall season are in their glory. I don't know what I
plan to do with these images just yet, but they are quickly forming a
collection on their own. So in the absence of tantalizing images of the exhibits at The Rooms, here is my collection of seed pods in the sky.
