Writing - Other Artists Work
To Gather: Frequencies Transformed
Utah Sites Review Topological Inventions
Fashion Monsters, from The Art of Sleep
The unconscious has its horrors, but they are not anthropomorphic. It is not the slumber of reason that
engenders monsters, but vigilant and insomniac rationality.
-Deleuze and Guattari, Anti-Oedipus, Psychoanalysis and Familialism: the Holy Family, p. 112
Lily pads captured from dreams anchored in the physical realm resting upon a bed; talismans of the
night made available to the restful for adornment; and towering, other worldly sleepwalkers captured in
mid-stride – these are the inhabitants of a perpetual dreamscape where being awake has no bearing.
Such is the environment in Daria Dorosh’s The Art of Sleep, an installation with an abundance of
sparkling sights and kaleidoscopic contemplation. The result is an ecosystem where possibilities exist.
sparkling sights and kaleidoscopic contemplation. The result is an ecosystem where possibilities exist.
Of particular interest are the peculiarly named Fashion Monsters, noted before with their monolithic
presence, these enigmatic sentinels are virtually compiled, digitally carved from years of accumulated
fashion stock photography and the artist’s personal image stash. They slide out of and push into a
libidinal dimension, stacked with pattern, embellished, as gleaming unknown saints; depicted with great height, they are printed and mounted individually.
presence, these enigmatic sentinels are virtually compiled, digitally carved from years of accumulated
fashion stock photography and the artist’s personal image stash. They slide out of and push into a
libidinal dimension, stacked with pattern, embellished, as gleaming unknown saints; depicted with great height, they are printed and mounted individually.
As they emerge from their distinct portals, these “fashion-lings” evade the center of the physical
exhibition space, taking refuge on edges or in corners, as if stepping out from a mirror or door whose
hidden peripheries are purposefully cut against an invisible block. Sewn in Photoshop, Dorosh drafts a
sloper which includes heteromorphic shape-shifters gesturing to us from many different angles. The
creatures are constellations, their cumulative identities enhanced by richly replicated fabrics and natural forms assembled without clear definition as to whom or what they may be. Their ambiguity is refreshing in a time of overabundant, obsessive identification.
Is it important that these entities be labelled? As gatekeepers of said ecosystem, elements of their
embodiments seem familiar, upside down/right side up, ever-overlapping, interfaced and fused:
flowers; tapestries of hands, fingers as collars, and elbows; petal pinks and sepias; damasks; frippery, a
platform stiletto; remnants of flounces and lace trimmings; boots; visages; jabots; eyes, bodices, torsos,
and profiles; a barrage of puzzle pieces woven together, the proliferation thereof released uniting to
create unrecognized, new familiars, who are rising to the surface. This is the culminating point for the
creation of both the monsters and the realm in which they dwell.
Far in the distance, we might perhaps dimly perceive a humanity with many genders, none of which is
named with a name that is not its own. They are nameless not because they have been laid waste, but
because they could have or could be any name, but have no need to have or to be any.1
Dorosh is an expert in meaningful and regenerative reassembly; distinct image items separated by time
and fashion are merged anew and though the view of these creatures is in the present, surely these
sights are of the future. Magically suspended, fluttering and life layered, these visions beckon viewers
to their in-between existence, promoting questions regarding identity, replication and what it is to be
original or unique. They may all be singular as the viewer encounters them, but their existence, their
output may be exponential, potentially without end – investigations in perpetual ambiguity.
A universe of borders, seesaws, fragile and mingled identities, wandering of the subject and its objects,
fears and struggles, abjections and lyricisms.2
Notes:
1. Klaus Theweleit, Male Fantasies Volume 2, Male Bodies: Psychoanalyzing the White Terror, The
Mass and Its Counterparts, The Whole, p. 107, 1989
2. Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror, An Essay on Abjection, Celine: Neither Actor Nor Martyr, p.
135, 1982
On the In Between
Great traveling companions are hard to come by, so when you find a well suited match it isn’t a mistake
to assume that you are willing to go anywhere. Getting lost is a possibility, but it doesn’t matter since
the intention of the ride is about the risk - an instinct that follows disruption willingly along multiple
snaking paths, teetering, arching up and along the tapered balance of an armature highway.
Great traveling companions are hard to come by, so when you find a well suited match it isn’t a mistake
to assume that you are willing to go anywhere. Getting lost is a possibility, but it doesn’t matter since
the intention of the ride is about the risk - an instinct that follows disruption willingly along multiple
snaking paths, teetering, arching up and along the tapered balance of an armature highway.
When you finally ease up on the clutch and step on the gas, your feet are summoned to take part in a
dance to drive your vehicle; the subtlety of the balance determines the outcome, the action of the in between, the difference between velocity and herky jerky stops. These manual orchestrations amplify
shifts in physicality - multiple transitions and options supply the encounter with the speed of discovery.
Each route reconnects and extends the network, encircling, jutting out to support the beginning.
As witnessed at the start of October, 2018, in Fabrik Expo x JAUS’, Skulpturengarten (curated by Ichiro
Irie, founder of JAUS) at The Reef in Los Angeles, CA, “Turn It up” by Rochelle Botello is the same vehicle
to which this journey is ascribed. The spindly permutation rooted on the floor, with its careening, shiny
countenance, and captured tar traced outlines was seen lumbering along at an infinitesimal pace. It is
processing motion, building in upon itself. No, it wasn’t broken: gliding and sliding on its own, its built-in
self-navigation system purposefully harnessed the power of intent and happenstance as a means to
propel bony organics outward and around and through; without a concrete plan, it is an investigation in
spatial navigation shifting.
Included in the same journey, this changeling became a satellite tower intent on rebuilding itself,
climbing with renewed purpose above ramparts connected to delicately wrapped, crumpled debris
extracted from the site of a forgotten (but enticing) Ferris wheel that we wish we could have taken a
spin on. From the ground up the edifice gathers dispersed particles captured from the ooze of painting
and sculpture, the slightly tilting reintegration steadying itself for a new incarnation. Possibly a remote
control once told this being what to do, but was tossed away in delight to see it unfettered and free to
roam.
“Turn It Up” will land again soon in another setting, where it will be set on a new course. It longs to
keep moving and it does succeed – extending beyond convention, born for the role. From November 5
through December 13, 2018 it shall be a part of Found/Missing at the Arts, Media & Performance
Gallery, Los Angeles Mission College, in Sylmar, CA. Perhaps some will misconstrue this entity as a
monster, but its dimensional temperament and composure say otherwise. Tune in for what new
experience is waiting to be generated by its majestic presence. Be close enough to it so that it may whisper its story to you. This thing knows what it likes and it’s got to turn it up again that night.
©Suzanne Bybee 2024