pangeepangee.com
Sep. 25 — Oct. 23 / 2021
1305 Avenue des Pins Ouest, Montreal Quebec, Canada, H3G 1B2
1305 Avenue des Pins Ouest, Montreal Quebec, Canada, H3G 1B2
Something becomes a vermin only in relation to any human activity or environment. When nature proliferates unexpectedly, it reveals an autonomy that overcomes our human desire for control. How can something feel out of their habitat even within their own home? A vermin can be multiple kinds of species, depending on the context of its inconvenience to human habitation.
Mold growing on the ceiling, critters making pathways within the walls, ants nest by the window, many roommates at the haunt. Can these uninvited visitors become closer to our desired image of nature? Like the memory of a walk into the trails of a landscape? Why is this natural idealized spectre often distant to our mundane experience of unpleasant otherness?
The exhibition presents a series of sculptural wall works along with small floor sculptures that set an imaginary stage within a young human's room in the midst of its abandonment. An array of insect figurations occupies the space, as encounters with an omen. A streaming sound comes out of a sweat-stained pillow on the floor: a speechless voice attempting some sort of communication, composed from fragments of our world ingested into a new gentle groan.
“Gregor had a shock as he heard his own voice answering hers, unmistakably his own voice, it was true, but with a persistent horrible twittering mixed squeak behind it like an undertone, which left the words in their clear shape only for the first moment and then rose up reverberating around them to destroy their sense, so that one could not be sure one had heard them rightly.” – Franz Kafka.
Mold growing on the ceiling, critters making pathways within the walls, ants nest by the window, many roommates at the haunt. Can these uninvited visitors become closer to our desired image of nature? Like the memory of a walk into the trails of a landscape? Why is this natural idealized spectre often distant to our mundane experience of unpleasant otherness?
The exhibition presents a series of sculptural wall works along with small floor sculptures that set an imaginary stage within a young human's room in the midst of its abandonment. An array of insect figurations occupies the space, as encounters with an omen. A streaming sound comes out of a sweat-stained pillow on the floor: a speechless voice attempting some sort of communication, composed from fragments of our world ingested into a new gentle groan.
“Gregor had a shock as he heard his own voice answering hers, unmistakably his own voice, it was true, but with a persistent horrible twittering mixed squeak behind it like an undertone, which left the words in their clear shape only for the first moment and then rose up reverberating around them to destroy their sense, so that one could not be sure one had heard them rightly.” – Franz Kafka.