The longer I stay, the more I see. Some components of TWEEN are visual games of telephone. It goes: paper collage coiled rug, real coiled basket, real coiled rope, real coiled beads. In this Galapagos, I can quickly spot a close relative. The repetition of motifs unifies the show visually. Broadly, the arrangement of items is angular and purposeful. I classify a category of thing: tighter compositions-slash-devices with interesting details, often at a connection point.
The hinging arm of a tripod mic stand is extended by a bamboo stake. The bamboo stake is cut at a delicious 45-degree angle and fixed with a bigheaded screw. I notice I think of it as an anatomical being when I want to describe the screw as posterior. A bundle of colorful toothpicks sprouts from the bamboo stake near where a cut up knit fabric is draped at the top. The rag is lifted to a spherical bundle of burlap bound by wire. It is suspended by linked cords tied in both functional and extraneous knots. The tripod’s relation to the burlap bundle is supportive. The tripod says to the bundle, “It’s your time to shine.”
The bundle is mirrored in shape and size by a shiny foil pom-pom. While the bundle is produced perpendicular to the ceiling by rope, the pom-pom is pronounced against gravity by a plastic stem. This sculpture creates affection in me. Its fluffy head at roughly elbow height appeals to me evolutionarily, in the same way as my cat who resembles a soft-bodied and large-eyed human infant. Not only is it an adorable Wall-e and eight-year-old, but it also might be a game. Metallic bangles sling around two dowels on the shoulders of the creature. My ring toss, my pet!—has a loop of rusty wire tucked beneath him.
Because the show is scattered on each plane of the room, I enjoy looking at it from different vantage points. There are attractions in the canopy. A Bert and Ernie cake pan is pinned to the upper corner of the room by rare earth magnets. I see the concave face of Ernie studded with magnets and think, “Thank you for your sacrifice.”
A branch is suspended as a mobile from the ceiling. Seashells emerge as buds. The shells are knacked with tarry black adhesive and screws. Allen’s care is most apparent in the connection point. To appreciate Allen’s iterative care, I needed time, movement, and solitude. TWEEN deserves sustained attention.
Sterling Allen’s TWEEN is on view at Neue Welt from through July 27.
