the ratio of an earthworm
Sunday, September 2, 2018 from 3-7
Junction Triangle, Toronto


the ratio of an earthworm is a one-day, outdoor exhibition and gathering, co-organized by Patrick Cruz and Larissa Tiggelers. The participating artists directly and indirectly cultivate practices concerned with labour, focused consciousness, and acts of care.
 
Exhibiton Text:
Garden Paradox by Larissa Tiggelers

Art and gardening are antidotes to skepticism and indifference. Artists and gardeners transform space and material through time and attention, and those processes and their results create opportunities for sensorial escape.

As in many of today’s gardens, leisure and minor food production were the focus of plant curation in our oldest form of gardening, the forest garden. The first enclosures of outdoor space appeared in 10,000 BC, and although no one knows the specific details of these West Asian gardens, historians envision the purpose was to act as obstacles for animals and brigands. Outside spaces of beauty and independent food production came after this original need for fortification. Our contemporary gardens offer a different kind of fortification, protecting spaces of authenticity and carefulness. 

One of the most famous and, for a time, safest gardens in fiction was also the site of the first love triangle, involving Adam, Eve, and a snake. Two of these actors were blamed for putting an end to Eden’s heavenly breezes, golden fruit, and crystalline streams; following the fruit debacle, the Bible recast both Eve and the serpent as symbols of demonic power and chaos. Yet for most cultures snakes symbolize fertility and transformation—they are wise goddesses that give and take life. Consequently, the Garden of Eden and others can be seen as sites of regeneration and rebirth.

Voltaire was reportedly born under the now extinct Zodiac sign of Ophiuchus (from the Greek Ophioukhos; "serpent-bearer") and later in his life he cultivated an impressive private garden. In his satiric novel, Candide, Voltaire’s characters use garden metaphors to reflect the social and political discourse of the day,

“…for when man was put into the Garden of Eden, it was with an intent to dress it: and this proves that man was not born to be idle…. Work then without disputing, it is the only way to render life supportable.”

The gardens in Candide present collective labour as a solution to collective ills. By working the soil, we not only provide for and protect ourselves, but also ameliorate our souls. Gardens are spaces of compassion, and they represent nature’s capacity for symbolism, mystery, and romance.

For one afternoon, let’s pretend everything will work out for the best. Let’s allow the garden to alleviate the anxiety of personal and collective responsibility. Let’s focus on narrow plots, not wide systemic issues. After all, aren’t artists and plants both sentient beings? Don’t we all need to occasionally turn our faces to the sun?


Larissa Tiggelers, tender waves make the softest gestures
Shannon-Garden Smith

The paintings’ surfaces are at once perfect—but, perfection is too whole, too forgone. These are not at-once works. They work on us slowly, imperceptibly, and in our looking, an adjustment occurs. The adjustment feels, perhaps, mutual, like the suspended, indistinct moment when objects become perceptible in the blackness of night. That is, the lightlessness shifts by gradations out of all-over, and in these moments, it feels like more than the eyes adjusting. It is as if the world of things grows concurrently more present, more articulated, more luminous. This body of paintings—so unlike the obstinate shade of night in its soft, light-bathed palette—similarly compels temporal pause, drawing out our looking until that time when we have adjusted to its subtler register.

Somehow, the exceptional wrongness of comparing Larissa Tiggelers’ paintings to the night seizes upon her works’ exquisite practise in inversion. Her titles point to such a space of quiet, contemplative negative: no more than the reverse; other side of someday; it had been legible. I am particularly taken by a furrow on the glow—a phrase lifted from Emily Dickinson’s poem “Further in Summer than the Birds”. The title plants us in the ground, while recasting soil as sky/light/“glow”. The tactile negative implied by “a furrow”—a narrow, depressed line in the ground—inverts the artist’s description of the meeting point between two colours in her paintings. She refers to this seam as a shoreline where a tender lift of paint results from the sweep of her brush. Wonderfully, with patient, intimate looking these delicate crests of paint function optically as a furrows, casting the slightest of shadows in the paintings’ otherwise light fields of colour. Like Dickinson’s renowned use of the dash in her writing—an elegant line of punctuation signaling a wordless momentary cessation; a strike-through the blank of the page, and a join visually traced across space—the lines in Tiggelers’ paintings are also not lines but the place where colours touch as waves and furrows.  

September, 2017


all but gone
Larissa Tiggelers

 

Examined from up close, the softest gesture reveals itself. This occurs where two colours meet and create a liminal space: a tender wave of raised paint results from the painting’s making. Many layers of paint are applied to achieve opacity, and when my brush sweeps over the modest rise of the masking tape boundary a berm grows. When the tape is removed a crisp lift of paint remains, forming a liminal zone where areas of colour converge. This trace mirrors that of a paused shoreline; the energy of the paintbrush becomes elevated into a three-dimensional relief. Quiet evidence of the hand remains as a testament to the dedication of consideration and time. This slight indication of gesture captivates and rewards close observation.

December 2017


Thirty Minutes of Looking
Larissa Tiggelers
 

scoop of gesso, drop of yellow, stir, creamy petal

dash more yellow, mix, two stacked buttery petals

smidgen of red, push, flesh of a peach

drop of red, mix, strawberry ice cream

smidgen of blue, swirl, wine-stained concrete

more blue, mix, wet slate

dash more blue, dab and stir, bursting clouds

five drops of yellow, blend, boggy green,

dollop of gesso, stir, underside of a leaf

more yellow, blend, dried mint

tip of red, whip, sunned seaweed

scoop yellow, stir, bruised cilantro

four heavy drops of blue, swirl and wipe, pine needles in shadow

more blue, smear, late summer pond water

dash more blue, mix and whip, more gesso, smear, green river rocks

nip of red, mix, wet river rocks

two nips of red, blend, wet grout

dash of yellow, combine, snip of red, mix, soaked sidewalk

morsel of blue, mix, more gesso, mix, moonlit lake

February, 2017