In these islands, someone is writing about the inside from the inside. Each sculpture is a document of the movements used to birth and rebirth a series of objects in aging plastic, each framed with imitation granite. Looking down into the pools, I can see collections of rhyming objects, all types of long tubes with rounded tops: hot dog shapes, pickles, plastic asparagus, ice cube trays and pill pods. Each object seems to be speaking a shared language of organization and aspiration, as well as its own version of indent, filler, content and reaction. Each pickle suspended in translucent plastic cushioning, like a prehistoric mosquito trapped in amber, containing data from a previous moment.
The orderly quality of the materials are a nod to usefulness and clarity but they won't be defined by it the way a long bone advantages a leg. The pod’s shapes are illformed to reveal anything else about their status. They are also heavy, girthy and gasoline coloured, comprised of hundreds of different household items like cleaners, snacks, toys, utensils and body products. The giant specimens are polluted with supplementary materials in what looks like a continual effort to make something better by adding more.
Inside the king's stomach is something that both pollutes and defines him, nourishes and contaminates. The fitful way I treat my body is mirrored in the conflation of attraction and sustenance, mixing up health and flavour, salty and sweet. The toxic and the edible overlap and feed on one another, mirroring the way bodies grow up and grow old at the same time. The way a piece of over-ripened fruit begins to look over-bright, with a tightened skin that’s holding in something already deteriorating. These sculptures track the effects of gravity, evaporation, climate and time. Their form mirrors the pressure of a growing body that has had to morph and stretch to accommodate muscles that can't be contained.
Katie Lyle, 2018