I saw Lauren Parent's recent work at CCA's open studio day a few weeks back, and it's beautiful. I've been lucky enough to see her work slowly evolve over the past year or two - from her initial sculptures in foam core to abstract line-based works on vellum, and now to these newer charcoal drawings - and each step seems like a movement in a long song. I see the main theme, the deconstruction of that theme, and its greatly abstracted inverse, and despite these very different tempos, I see a constant perspective. I guess I am arbitrarily deciding where the song began (with the foam core sculptures), but stick with me here.
If you've ever worked with foam core or done any modelmaking for architecture, you might understand the technical skill and unbending patience required to make "Duck Island." My favorite part is the bird in the air - it's crazy to see all of the perfectly placed layers. I like the relation of the animals to the landscape, and the pixelization/stratification that comes from using linear building materials. Lauren's background in landscape design really shows here, from her material choice to her subject matter. I especially like the uniform color - a stark white, a sterile and hard-edged interpretation of nature. Foam core might be the least natural material out there, but when you see this piece you immediately say "nature scene" in your head.
Here's the second movement in the symphony: a deconstruction, a hint at how the initial piece was made. I think this is my favorite part, because the shapes form these amazing positive and negative spaces. The nature scene is broken down into an entirely unrecognizable form, clinically dissected into its components. This image also gently pokes fun at the DIY trend...who would want to make a foamcore duck at home? What would it mean when taken out of the context of art?
The image above shows a composition of all of the scraps left over from cutting out the ducks. This is where Lauren's work shifts its focus from the object to the waste, playing on the inverse of her abstraction. These shapes are unintentional, and maybe they're more engaging because they weren't formed consciously. They are just as precisely cut as the duck landscape because they are the other half of the puzzle - so this isn't a matter of sloppy scraps being tossed together. I like how many pieces there are, and their range of size and shape keeps my eye moving around the image. I am reminded of abstract textile designs, of the playful experiments of the Bauhaus gang, and of the order one can create from chaos. Even cooler, the photo above represents only one aspect of this piece - as Lauren placed these pieces on the floor in the Knave area of CCA's San Francisco campus, people gathered around to watch her and it became an impromptu performance. It's always engaging to see another person making decisions and working on a puzzle with no distinct parameters , but I think it was especially interesting because her audience was entirely made up of artists. I can imagine them all having opinions about where the pieces should go, trying to justify why one piece belonged in a spot. It may have not been a spoken conversation, but I'm fairly sure the whole group was involved in the disussion in some capacity.
The foam core scraps moved back into Lauren's studio and cluttered up a corner, not ready to be dumped. She sketched the pile, starting off with identifiable pieces tumbling and tangling amongst themselves, and later abstracting them to curves and lines floating in cloudy areas of charcoal.
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