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In her dream, her stomach turns into a ceramic flower stem. The growing plant’s pieces are falling apart. Lying in her bed, she tries to stitch the fragments of her belly back together, like she does in the studio while building her giant flowers. It happens often in her dreams that she’s overwhelmed by her work, by the mountain of work ahead. Her sheets turn into a fabric that envelops her, swallowing her.
In the smallest room of this mansion, Elisabeth Perrault gathers and lays down her torments. Opaque, solid, yet fragile and breakable. Digesting her fear of being swallowed by her own work, she turns it into a broken daisy. She swallows her anxiety about running out of time by taking her time, by inhabiting the complimentary strengths and weaknesses of her materials. Some things break when they’re dropped or crushed. Others when you tear them.
Elisabeth’s fears moved from her stomach to her hands to my edges. Digested. My twisted spine wraps its way up the wall of...More
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Press Release
In her dream, her stomach turns into a ceramic flower stem. The growing plant’s pieces are falling apart. Lying in her bed, she tries to stitch the fragments of her belly back together, like she does in the studio while building her giant flowers. It happens often in her dreams that she’s overwhelmed by her work, by the mountain of work ahead. Her sheets turn into a fabric that envelops her, swallowing her.
In the smallest room of this mansion, Elisabeth Perrault gathers and lays down her torments. Opaque, solid, yet fragile and breakable. Digesting her fear of being swallowed by her own work, she turns it into a broken daisy. She swallows her anxiety about running out of time by taking her time, by inhabiting the complimentary strengths and weaknesses of her materials. Some things break when they’re dropped or crushed. Others when you tear them.
Elisabeth’s fears moved from her stomach to her hands to my edges. Digested. My twisted spine wraps its way up the wall of...More