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Bigger than the biggest thing ever and then some. Much bigger than that in fact, really amazingly immense, a totally stunning size, real ‘wow, that’s big’ time. Infinity is just so big that by comparison, bigness itself looks really titchy. Gigantic multiplied by colossal multiplied by staggeringly huge is the sort of concept we’re trying to get across here. Douglas Adams, in Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, hints at the mind-blowing notion of infinity that has puzzled and perplexed the human mind for eons. The very finite nature of earthly experience has always led humans to question in the form of mythology, religion, science and cosmology; what if there is no end? |
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To Infinity and Beyond – Christine Cavallomagno
Bigger than the biggest thing ever and then some. Much bigger than that in fact, really amazingly immense, a totally stunning size, real ‘wow, that’s big’ time. Infinity is just so big that by comparison, bigness itself looks really titchy. Gigantic multiplied by colossal multiplied by staggeringly huge is the sort of concept we’re trying to get across here.
Douglas Adams, in Hitchiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, hints at the mind-blowing notion of infinity that has puzzled and perplexed the human mind for eons. The very finite nature of earthly experience has always led humans to question in the form of mythology, religion, science and cosmology; what if there is no end? What does that look like?
In “World Without End,” a recent group show at McKenzie Fine Art, 18 artists are brought together, who attempt to visually define the indefinable. The difficulty lies in the inherent paradox of presenting a concept that is outside of space and time in three dimensions. This is approached from every conceivable angle, from the cosmological to the microscopic. Michelle Hinebrook’s Blushed (2005), for instance, employs a dramatic shift in scale to depict magnified human flesh as a repeating pattern of cells that appears as a kind of geometric abstraction. Separated from its identity as a human organ, the skin becomes a mathematically precise repeating pattern. Similarly, David Mann’s encaustic painting entitled Rhapsody (2006), presents a view through the eyepiece of a microscope where fluid brushstrokes seen through layers of wax create an endless appearance of layer upon layer of beautiful organic shapes, which could easily pass for a scientific textbook illustration of cellular fusion. In a way, Bayard’s Yinz Jumbo (Yellow) (2006), shows the infinitesimally small and the “staggeringly huge” simultaneously. His giant Yellow mohair sculpture references string theory, inferring an endless repetition of itself. Its curious cavernous spaces appear to fold in on themselves, referring to the theory that the universe can only become so large before it starts to contract, or so small before it would begin expanding again.
The works are connected by a common thread in that they draw in the viewer as a participant. Each work posits an optical twist, which poses a question: when does the work end and the physical space begin? One particularly remarkable example is Ivan Navarro’s Wall Hole (2004), a painted wooden box with a mirror, framed by four fluorescent bulbs that create a seemingly endless tunnel of light as the bulbs’ reflections bounce back and forth, framing the viewer in a space that appears to recede infinitely. In the same vein, Yayoi Kusama’s Infinity Nets (2000), does not allow the viewer to confront the work directly without being enveloped in it, through a mirror covered in a silk-screened repeating web pattern.
The layers of interpretations range from the physical universe to the spiritual. Particularly stunning is Manulla Palmer’s 2006 work entitled Arachnia’s Garden Party, which is a kind of dreamcatcher made of fabric, steel and artificial flowers. The significance of the dreamcatcher, with its spiraling spider web pattern and circular frame, is meant to signify the cycle of life that is eternal and the absolute, and the eternal Spirit that is intricately tied to Native American belief. Hilary Brace’s two tiny charcoal etchings on mylar, Untitled #5-03 and Untitled #14-02 (2003), vex any perception of proportionality as their small size belies their capacity to convey a sense of majesty and vastness. Becoming lost in these photo-realistic drawings, one has a sense of having lost track of time gazing out an airplane window at sunset, intoxicated by the illuminated clouds. They depict the heavens of Renaissance paintings and one would half-expect to see a white-robed angel appear in the endless foggy sky.
Like Robert Mangold’s Moebius strips (Untitled, 2002) there is something futile about rendering such a visually troubling concept of an endless surface that cannot be oriented, in a sense it is the place where two-dimensional art comes to the end of its capacity for representation. Similarly, there is a beautiful futility about portraying eternity through art, which can never fully capture the infinite, but will always try.
