About the Exhibition - Spirited
SPIRITED
Artist Statement by Marcie Rohr, September 2024
SPIRIT is ever the evasive word. Slipping in and out of conceptions of reality, it is the very definition of something loosely held. It’s root word being breath, describes something of the expanse beyond, and tiny spaces within.
In the end, SPIRIT may mean different things to different people, but SPIRITED seems to be something rare in this world we can all agree on. Gritted teeth. Tenacity. Advocacy. Vibrancy. Relentless stubbornness doused in good fun. Determination. Endurance.
I make textiles because they connect me with a past marked by habits of work done by hand. Reminders of the endearing, enraging, monotonous grind of “women’s work” are not far off when my hands are busy. Stitching large scale tapestries, I think of old hands, maybe from one hundred years ago, chapped from washing dishes in scalding water, or arms hauling a load of wet laundry to hang on a line. I try to find the balance between glorifying this archaic domestic work, and denying it’s essence as a dying art form. When I’m bent over a textile, holding it in my lap, or stitching yarn through it as it hangs on the wall, I feel a kinship, a connection, a kind of doting tenderness flowing through me, that is, devoted attention to what I’m doing, right then and there. I’ve found that in this practice, nothing I do can be overlooked; every square inch calls for intention. I could use a sewing machine, but I don’t. I could sit in a chair at a desk but I don’t, I sit on the floor, feet often falling asleep, surrounded by scraps of found cloth. The devotion to simplicity in this making is so fierce it could be called perverse, with all the ways I could make things easier for myself, and choose not to.
There is something in the makeup of these textile pieces, and the layers of the paint, grown from all that focus; puzzles woven into their form, not unlike complex emotions colouring personalities; myself, people in my life I call family and friends, and undoubtedly you, too. The artwork, woven or painted from undivided intention, and determination, takes on its own unique vibrancy, similar to a person: unique, beautiful, obstinate, sometimes hard to love. In short: spirited.
The textiles hanging like that, all loose on the wall, especially exude a kind of vulnerability that I’m aiming for. They are anything but performative. In this way, they remind me of a stubborn streak I have, a determination (much to my ego’s chagrin) not to make art that is just going to evoke a sense of wonder, and therefore, detachment from the grind of reality; the wet laundry, the dough, or whatever work that so far today has been left undone in my world. I want to build art for connection, a kind of embodiment of the posture that we as humans might adopt when we want to relate to each other, and not impress each other. It’s a very hard thing for an artist to do, and I still don’t have it right. This series is simply another iteration of my attempt that for years I’ve been working on. It must be true that making art is a slow, monotonous grind.
Grandmother-root-word Spirit is connected to the ancient and ephemeral, but the picture we imagine in Spirited is the exact opposite— to be unflappable, a stick in the mud. Is someone spirited really ephemeral? Not so much. They fill the room with themselves, in all their human imperfection, entirely unapologetic for the fire in their eyes.
These pieces, I hope, exude something similar. Rooted in desire to encourage the expression of being alive, not just despite, but through the grind of monotony that is the work of our hands. While we have skin and bones structuring our essence, what will we do with ourselves?
Spirited illustrates a desire to rise to an occasion with strength, and courage, despite a host of imperfections and obstacles and believe me when I say in my life there is an abundance of both. Spirited articulates a desire to say “I am here” while I am here, in the here and now. With the love and tenderness, the slow grind of cultivating many layers of these intricate works, they feel complete when they resemble topographical landscapes, often areal views. They speak of a relentless craving to see beyond circumstantial obstacles, and to soar, weightless. At the same time they are expressions of attempt to dig inward, to journey through the landscapes of mind and essence to find things inside, strange and beautiful pieces of the grand puzzle that will never be quite complete, but still, we fiercely love.
If Spirited connotes a desire to rise to an occasion, what occasions does this life relentlessly call for? Connection, vulnerability, the slow grind of kindness. Relentless compassion. The granting of wisdom, the monotonous work of forgiveness. I slog through in hopes of crafting a life that looks a little bit like art. And about the show, these works, I hope if you sit long enough with them, they will begin to look a little like life.