Exhibition

A Crucible

by Kati Rule

Chaos and Control are not just the names of fictional secret service agencies. But we all knew that, right?

In those moments when we relinquish control of something, no matter how minute it might seem to the outside world, a kind of chaos reigns internally, possibly leaving one feeling vulnerable and exposed or alternatively, liberated and empowered.

Small manifestations of chaos are evident in most aspects of life and the edge of 'feeling' in control is a fine one. Bedrooms and bags can be chaotic; seemingly full of everything but the one thing you want or need, like your wallet, keys, or left shoe. Those frustrated searches are more often guided by instinct than common sense. Sometimes finances are a bit out of control, money seemingly disappearing at whim. Parties can also be - with lots of people and drinks - shenanigans all round.

Love is especially chaotic: powerless in the face of it, behaving irrationally in the name of it and in response to the intense force of its counterpart - loneliness.

I'm writing this from New York. This city, with all my romantic projections, is awe inspiring because of its own functioning chaos. With its bursting population and stuff everywhere, you really feel the weight of it all, on the subway and the street, in its horizons and people. To a girl from the outer eastern suburbs of Melbourne, it's difficult to gauge how it works because Australia is so over-governed. I'm proud of the fairness and accessibility we have but it has come at a cost. It should be said that New York is not America. It's a world unto itself and it functions not in spite of the chaos but because of it. Of course you could argue the opposite when the cable guy takes three days to turn up, only to drill a hole through the wall and hang the wire straight down the side of the building - but you get the channels you asked for so what else do you want?

Speaking of tele, I often think of the movie The Vanishing, released in 1988. The main character, the man who has abducted and killed the other man's wife, says that his actions were born out of an urge to find out what would happen. Once, as a boy, he crossed that first invisible boundary his appetite for this new found freedom was insatiable. Not unlike the story of the Japanese schoolboy who started killing small things then each time would graduate to a slightly larger animal until he eventually killed a classmate. Both of these characters - one real, one fictional - let their curiosity and refusal to abide by the acceptable laws of society be at an unfair cost to others. This is an anarchy we can't live with, but occasionally have to, whether we like it or not.

I'm all for meeting needs, and I'm often heard singing 'whatever gets you through the night, its all right, all right'. But what if you just can't get to sleep until 'I find and dissect a new hand to compliment the arm I chopped off yesterday'? Exactly what Sharon's installation is can be left up to the viewer to decide, but perhaps it was this kind of rationalism that led to it? It could be a dumping ground for a scientist trying to create a new something/one, living beyond the laws of society, or similarly it could be the evidence of a serial killer's activity. In the twisted pile of remains - limbs, heads and torsos - animal and human are pierced or entwined with each other and various detritus whilst some are more menacingly stabbed. Regardless of their individual history, each item's common ground now lays in its last resting place, a rubbish tip of discarded parts. It brings to mind images of various disaster zones that are a result of a much larger bedlam. A place where things that previously held structure and purpose has been reduced to a pile of nothingness. Individual objects and people betray only a vague sense of their past self, seemingly reformatted to symbolise a greater kind of misery. Whatever the reading of this work as an object, the alchemy that has prevailed to achieve it is the same. Things have been pulled, torn and cut apart to make - in this crucible of sorts - something different, another thing. However it is the sum of its parts, which is as much defined by what is not included as what is. For it seems the left overs in this installation have had their usefulness determined and harvested, which has consequentially exposed their uselessness and eventual demise.

Making this work Sharon has relaxed some of her self imposed rules on symmetry and composition, letting a little chaos in and making it harder to ascertain the edges. As with our perceptions and projections, whether they lead us to chaos or control, it is a result we all have to live with.

Kati Rule is a Melbourne-based artist and writer, She is currently in New York (at time of publication).