Bringing context and critique to the cultural moment. Deep dives, reviews, and debate encouraged.
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Bringing context and critique to the cultural moment. Deep dives, reviews, and debate encouraged.
40652 Members
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© 2020 Relevant Protocols Inc.
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Mire Lee’s promethean sculptures and installations instill a creeping transgressive horror. Twisted piles of rubber tubing, pools of silicate, and ventricular pumps gurn, and ejaculate. Hung like sides of meat in an abattoir, or writhing slowly on the ground, they elicit disgust, desire, and curiously, maternal tenderness. There is no sense of healthy growth, rather each is an entropic system. They devour themselves as the exhibition progresses, hard mechanics grind down soft material. The process that leads her to the form of each is instinctive and bodily, driven by material qualities, and a desire to avoid the clean lines of ‘art.’ Instead she develops an aesthetic of excess and overdrive, creating encounters that are profoundly affective, speaking to the grim human fascination with the roadside crash. To encounter her work in the gallery space is to be confronted with a disintegrating simulacrum of our own frail flesh. As the viewer, the distance between the work and ourselves collapses; one body viscerally responding to another.
Mire Lee’s promethean sculptures and installations instill a creeping transgressive horror. Twisted piles of rubber tubing, pools of silicate, and ventricular pumps gurn, and ejaculate. Hung like sides of meat in an abattoir, or writhing slowly on the ground, they elicit disgust, desire, and curiously, maternal tenderness. There is no sense of healthy growth, rather each is an entropic system. They devour themselves as the exhibition progresses, hard mechanics grind down soft material. The process that leads her to the form of each is instinctive and bodily, driven by material qualities, and a desire to avoid the clean lines of ‘art.’ Instead she develops an aesthetic of excess and overdrive, creating encounters that are profoundly affective, speaking to the grim human fascination with the roadside crash. To encounter her work in the gallery space is to be confronted with a disintegrating simulacrum of our own frail flesh. As the viewer, the distance between the work and ourselves collapses; one body viscerally responding to another.
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