“Dollar Store Triptych” by Mark McLean (All images: Stefania Yarhi)
We were lucky enough to get an advance look at some of the work being set up at the
Gladstone Hotel for Come Up to My Room. Some of the artists and designers have taken more radical approaches than in previous years, including the erection of huge installation pieces and maybe a little social commentary on the Dollar Store. Check out some of the exhibitions here, with our slide show »
“3’s Company” by Frank De Jong presents 3 blocks of wood crafted as furniture as a means of exploring functional objects artistically.
This installation fills the room with what looks a machine wrapped in plastic for shipping. Inside, layers upon layers of objects: woods, metals, lights, all work harmoniously, playing on concepts of time and energy.
Everyday objects take flight and turn the viewers’ eyes up, towards the sky, and melding form and function.
The little soldiers painted white and baby blue for “Dollar Store Triptych” are a social comment speared by the low prices of our socio-economic landscape. The recognizable toys lose their meaning to take on that of the artist’s.
The artist, is a Chinese immigrant, took a look at women from her own community with “Face to Face.” The show consists of imposing photos of the girl who immigrated to the woman today, filtering time and space between the two.
This alcove is straight from a ’60s sci-fi movie. Cocoon-like papier-mâché balloons take over the space and there’s a feeling of encroachment as the balls seem to spread and taking over.
“Chaos Theory” looks at the possibilities and limitations between chaos and order.
Walk into a dark room, past the curtain to an envelop of wires and twinkling lights. Like entering into a matrix, “De-Spaced” lives between architectural space and its function.
“Escapes III” focuses on the recognizable (the fire escapes), then miniaturizes its 3-D construct and transforming its space.
McCavour uses her sewing machine to thread together fabric dissolved by water. Each piece strung from the ceiling spatially reflects a room that feels fragile enough to disintegrate right before you.
This machinery negotiates order from chaos. What looks like endless knobs, lights and moving parts work together in a loop.
“It’s a loop,” we’re told as we walk through “Home Is Where.” There is no end or beginning. The room contains prized possessions and everyday objects as clues to the person that’s not there.
“Treehugger” prompts viewers to “Hug Me!” challenging urban-minded concrete-dwellers.