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Scrappy the Bandit and the Outlaw Wolf



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The gallery has always sparked an expectant feeling of forgetfulness in me, whether I am an unsuspecting viewer or conceiving of an installation for a particular space. More specifically, entering an art gallery evokes a feeling of being in between the safe, assured and comforting feeling of knowing, and the completely lost and vague feeling of having my mind turn blank. The moment of entry -- if I could slow it down and clearly perceive my heightened expectation -- is like going into a room to get something but forgetting what I’m looking for. I liken the experience to that of going into the basement for something -- not quite remembering what -- and opening a box. It might be the height of summer or above ground there might be three feet of snow. The basement is cool, like always; it is dark, a little damp, in a state of disarray or rigid organization. Within the stacks of boxes there are the possibilities of finding Christmas lights and water wings alike. Until a box is opened or its label read, the basement is neutral, quiet and waiting.Scrappy the Bandit and the Outlaw Wolf has come to encompass this type of experience: the ambiguity of being both the moment before something happens, and the tucked-away-until-next-year Long Goodbye of an event’s neatened and tissue-wrapped aftermath. And the heart of this exhibition offers a number of parallel narratives; these are illustrated by coils of pennants seemingly stored away, a perch in which to sit and wait, a shelter from which to make forays, and an oversize toy wolf that watches over the space.



seeking, hiding, installation, waiting, watching



Master of Fine Arts (M.F.A)


Art and Art History


Art and Art History


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