March 6, 2010. 2 years ago, I was shown an ad for this man’s work. El Anatsui. It was placed by the Shainman Gallery on West 20th Street in an art magazine. I rushed to the gallery. I was breathless. I had to see these works. I was a year too early. I went back a year later, and I went back again this year. The works by El Anatsui are magisterial to me. They are sensual in the way that fabric can be, and they shimmer like metal would if it was woven into fabric. I would want to wear these next to my skin, even though I know it would be punctured, bloody and torn if I did so. The impression is both timely and timeless, harking back to the first weavings women ever created, which have been reinterpreted and built on over eons. This new work has changed (at least in my memory) from the first work I saw, with the addition of circular shapes and meandering lines, paths perhaps, leading across a landscape texturally lush and eager to be explored.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
SHIMMER
March 6, 2010. 2 years ago, I was shown an ad for this man’s work. El Anatsui. It was placed by the Shainman Gallery on West 20th Street in an art magazine. I rushed to the gallery. I was breathless. I had to see these works. I was a year too early. I went back a year later, and I went back again this year. The works by El Anatsui are magisterial to me. They are sensual in the way that fabric can be, and they shimmer like metal would if it was woven into fabric. I would want to wear these next to my skin, even though I know it would be punctured, bloody and torn if I did so. The impression is both timely and timeless, harking back to the first weavings women ever created, which have been reinterpreted and built on over eons. This new work has changed (at least in my memory) from the first work I saw, with the addition of circular shapes and meandering lines, paths perhaps, leading across a landscape texturally lush and eager to be explored.
