Pamela Jorden and John Pearson
March 12 - April 16, 2016
So much of life is enigmatic, overwhelmed with competing meanings. How do we make sense of things? How do we become comfortable in new surroundings? Often we fill new spaces with objects that remind us of other places. Spaces transform as they are enhanced by the dialogue and intentions of the people and things that occupy them. Meanwhile, light seductively defines the ceiling, floors, and walls with wavering albeit relentless precision.
Color invites familiarity, but as Josef Albers states, If one says 'Red' and there are 50 people listening, it can be expected that there will be 50 reds in their minds. And one can be sure that all these reds will be very different.
When you enter the space, you will notice the window too large to fit the room and a triangular mass cut out of the ceiling to bring in an abundance of light. The sky is also part of the room, as is the building across the street and the people walking by on the sidewalk below. You will begin to understand what exists in the room, why it is here, how it is made, if you consider its interaction with the sun. When the sun goes down, shadows fill the room; what was once familiar, needs now to be relearned.
All this geometry (of objects, architecture, light): a quiet and simple complexity that ushers in the world.