This exhibition is transitional. I am somewhere between 2 different ways of practicing, showing pieces that are one-of-a-kind, and hand built, and pieces made using my moulds. The exhibition is at the Port Moody Arts Centre.
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The Port Moody City Gallery just before set up. It was a beautiful autumn day.
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Gabriella Solti, left, our Hungarian curator, which seems so apt, with Marcia Pitch, afternoon of setup.
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Gabriella assisitng Marcia set up a hanging piece.
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Gabriella watching Marcia stuff the cubboard with toys. A favourite piece with the guests.
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Marcia and I on opening night.
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Press moulded, taken from a piece I made at the ICS. Thsi was just finished days before the show,. Becasue they were press moulds I could manipulate their heads and epression.
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Showing the scale of Baby Girls
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Golden Boy by the window.
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Golden Boy under the lights. The surface affects from the salt wood firing are so variable under different ligjhts.
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Bed of Roses and Yellow Doll with Marcia's soft toys. Yellow Doll has a fright-wig. She is one of the press moulds.
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Marcia's nifty wall piece on West wall.
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Mood shot. The Herend porcelain babies are now on glass squares.
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Over-view of the babies on glass. I like the idea of an open / changeable arrangement.
Debra spotted Marcia’s wild red shoes on the first day of their childrens’ preschool. They have remained friends ever since. As artists they recognized a similar undercurrent in their distinctly different art practices.
This exhibition dwells on the shadowed side of childhood, and the impetus is experience and memory. These constructions, disquieting and humorous, come out of the artists’ own experience, and are accelerated by witnessing their children’s.
Sometimes there is no peace in the dark. The nursery is not always a refuge at midnight.
Debra’s Statement:
The nursery is a metaphor for the realm of childhood.
We hope that the nursery is a safe and good place but we remember that it is also where fear, sorrow and conflict occur.
My babies are a metaphor for us, and the infant within each of us that marks our beginning and remains with us till our end. Childhood is a precarious place, and ceramics and childhood both exist in a state of fragility.