I tilted over until it becomes horizon
Ohan Breiding, Abigail Raphael Collins, dean erdmann, EJ Hill, & Joshua AM Ross
March 31st – April 29th
Opening Reception: March 31, 5-7pm
Closing Reception: April 29, 4:30-6:15pm with artist walkthrough at 5pm
I tilted over until it becomes horizon is a group exhibition that expands notions of queer kinship through shapeshifting and time travel. We morph as we encounter elements of water, sound, heat, and gravity, forging intimacies with each other as we take on new forms. “I” tilts over and individuation succumbs to new shared landscapes both internal and external.
Queer is not yet here, it is horizontal. What has it got to do with me? The horizon is the farthest thing that I can see, the farthest thing with which the eye in me can be. Ohan Breiding shows how the horizon is at home, a buoy, a balloon, a bladder ready to burst, that piss pig will let into the void left in the body of it, before it drains the pool. A series of pig bladders in gelatin silver prints meet with a pair of photographs birthed head first, a submerged swimmer and a shoreline, water bodies expansive and immersive, loved, liquid, solid, leaking. Joshua AM Ross makes the line a weft, woven into a tapestry landscape drawn as a map of the marks that make a world out of sync scaled to its own rhythms to hold what’s dark and soft in color. Drawings in graphite and colored pencil wrap hands around color bands to make limbic landscapes. EJ Hill grows flowers in paint, rooted in form they sprout in space to give laurels to the interior landscape. Acrylic florals conjure the collective gathering tableside to tend the horizon of regrowth in the wake of performance fatigue. Abigail Raphael Collins dances with dead dykes in a choreography of sound and silence, speaking selves past and present into the fishing lure of voiced vision. Her video installation taps Dorothy Arzner’s boom mic for insight. Dean Erdmann publishes history in glass, printing light to page loss. Recovered books from Magnus Hirschfeld’s destroyed library regain dimension in kiln cast glass, and window vinyl translucencies shed light on the archive of queer dedication that frames print culture with care.
Unseat the subject and you’re delivered into a scene: what are its coordinates? When I tilts its serifs still stand, last vestiges of self but now as much water features as facial fragments, limning landforms and enlivening horizon lines with the psychic intensities of a first person made plural on its side. Last and first then I meets its maker under water. The elemental is the primal scene for tilting itself, a title for us to become the things we are through and through.
Exhibition text by Joan Lubin (2022).
Photographs by dean erdmann & Abigail Raphael Collins.
Review by Sonya Merutka here.