In bugs

The gallery show, or the path, is an attempt to let the world of “bugs” bleed out from the screen in the spirit of entertainment and the belief in worlds outside of this world. In blockbuster-scale productions, like those of Disney and Pixar, the world is created in order to allow for a distinct transition out of our world and to then be immersed in the new one, to feel its infinite reach (imagination) and exasperated objects and boundaries, all within a narrative that feels close to the home (heart.)

But what of the world that draws boundaries within the frame that actually stop visually and presents seams around what might be seen as “our world” and “their world”? Does the viewer still feel inserted? Overcome? What if the viewer doesn’t feel a part of this world and instead spends time acknowledging its boundaries, the literal lines that stop within the frame of the film and throughout the narrative. What if the notion of the infinite is a freedom we equate with money, and employing the visual stops within the frame deploys another freedom within this paradigm.

The quickness of each line and the solid, almost primary colours used throughout the film acknowledge the ambiguous authority inherent in creating meaning and the contingency of what we know; the signs that we are accustomed, the language with which we proceed, is shared but can be twisted in a way that strokes its inner parts. It is the blunt insertion into reality that highlights an always-present awkwardness, one realized perfectly by the film.

Through tropes of cinema and painting, the world of bugs is one in which ambiguous lines grow longer and longer and boundaries of appropriateness seems to dissolve just enough to feel spooky and familiar. It is a world about this world and others, and also about living, and its uneasy meaning we must decipher over and over again.

A painting should walk, 1-2-3.

And what would a bugs art show look like?

Like a painting not quite understood, like a place to pass but not to stop. The idea of the work relying on its own notions of itself, playing with the idea of colour and the stroke as another way to walk, as continuous movement so the show doesn’t need you to stop and contemplate, but to come through it and see how paint lands.

In bugs

The gallery show, or the path, is an attempt to let the world of “bugs” bleed out from the screen in the spirit of entertainment and the belief in worlds outside of this world. In blockbuster-scale productions, like those of Disney and Pixar, the world is created in order to allow for a distinct transition out of our world and to then be immersed in the new one, to feel its infinite reach (imagination) and exasperated objects and boundaries, all within a narrative that feels close to the home (heart.)

But what of the world that draws boundaries within the frame that actually stop visually and presents seams around what might be seen as “our world” and “their world”? Does the viewer still feel inserted? Overcome? What if the viewer doesn’t feel a part of this world and instead spends time acknowledging its boundaries, the literal lines that stop within the frame of the film and throughout the narrative. What if the notion of the infinite is a freedom we equate with money, and employing the visual stops within the frame deploys another freedom within this paradigm.

The quickness of each line and the solid, almost primary colours used throughout the film acknowledge the ambiguous authority inherent in creating meaning and the contingency of what we know; the signs that we are accustomed, the language with which we proceed, is shared but can be twisted in a way that strokes its inner parts. It is the blunt insertion into reality that highlights an always-present awkwardness, one realized perfectly by the film.

Through tropes of cinema and painting, the world of bugs is one in which ambiguous lines grow longer and longer and boundaries of appropriateness seems to dissolve just enough to feel spooky and familiar. It is a world about this world and others, and also about living, and its uneasy meaning we must decipher over and over again.

A painting should walk, 1-2-3.

And what would a bugs art show look like?

Like a painting not quite understood, like a place to pass but not to stop. The idea of the work relying on its own notions of itself, playing with the idea of colour and the stroke as another way to walk, as continuous movement so the show doesn’t need you to stop and contemplate, but to come through it and see how paint lands.