Earlier this week I went to an exhibition of Rachel Whiteread’s works at the St Louis Art Musuem. The first piece I encountered was the casting of the inside of a wardrobe. She finished the sculptor by covering it with black felt in order to give the impression of being inside a wardrobe as a child who is in the midst of a game of hide and seek or maybe just needing to hide. The blackness of the sculptor and memories of my own hiding away arrested me.
I was drawn in by the artists preoccupation with negative space in the every day of life. As a fellow human being I felt honoured in my everydayness. I felt weighty, that I like her sculptors am dense, grounded, substinative.