Ouroboros
Installation views of Handhelds and Spiral No. 170412 in Ouroboros at St. Anne’s Anglican Church
2018, Toronto
Photos: Ken Woroner
Handhelds produced with the support of the City of Toronto through Toronto Arts Council. Industrial felt sourced from The Felt Store.
Review by Terence Dick in Akimbo
Exhibition Text
Text by Jennifer Rudder
Known as the oldest allegorical symbol in alchemy, the ouroboros represented the concept of eternity and endless return. The symbol of a snake eating its own tail in a closed circle has been found in varied contexts and geographies. The artists in the exhibition Ouroboros at St. Anne’s Anglican Church pose an inquiry into the cyclical themes of connectedness and continuity through each artwork.
Toronto artists Ellen Bleiwas, Emily DiCarlo, Gunilla Josephson, Adrienne Trent and Marian Wihak share a network of overlapping relationships. The arc of time, space, and history, and the connective impacts and resonances activated are shared drivers of their practices. Each one shares a world view that includes the evanescent, the ephemeral and the past with the subsequent talismans, relics, and vestiges of these histories used as markers and reminders of a larger realm of consciousness.
Ellen Bleiwas’ Handhelds
Lost in thought and meditation I spy a small object nestled in the rack on the back of the pew beside a prayer book. I pick up the supple vessel and am comforted by its buttery softness, the fragrance of beeswax. As I turn it in my hand I catch a glimpse of my face - the interior is mirrored! Closing my eyes I observe the shift in my mood created by my reflection. From interior meditation, I become cognizant of the weight of my body on the hard surface of the pew. How many people have sat here before me? How many sit here each Sunday?
Another object is in the rack in the next pew. Looking over my shoulder to the few bowed heads scattered in the church, I move up. In front of me is a small wrapped parcel; an offering. I feel the smooth surface of the natural rubber in my hand. The laced object resembles the vamp of a child’s boot. Soft and pliable as skin, it fits in my palm. Dipped in beeswax it gives off an olfactory hit of candles. I hold my childhood self in my hand remembering cold feet in rubber boots kicking against the pew until my mother grabs my arm.
(Text cont’d in Exhibition Booklet)