Image: Brie Ruais, Non Zero Sum Game, 2017, Letha Wilson, Goblin Valley State Park, Utah, December 2016


May 27, 2017 July 02, 2017

Opening Saturday, May 27, 2017, 6–8pm

The landscape is there, overcoming our vision, supporting our steps, entering our pores, holding a space in our memory.

Have you stood at the edge of a cliff at sunset? Have you seen yourself smaller than you know yourself to be? A speck in the rolling terrain of sand below.

It’s not about you as a figure looking across the land, instead you are inside the picture plane itself and become one of its many striations.

I know it’s not possible to take the landscape with me, to carry it home. The land can’t be separated from itself. I can’t separate from the land. I leave a part of myself there, drifting dust held in a beam of light, floating untethered.

I got lost here.

The images I carry home and cut, fold, crease, cast. Over here I am inlaying a sunset, a dessert-scape, a canyon crevasse, holding it, repeating it, casting it into a thing heavy, dense, held tight. This is where I keep it all. Printing and imprinted.

Something about body and translation of experience through it…Is the mark of the hand a way of claiming your presence as a body and in actual space? That you were there?*

The earth I push under my fingernails, into my pours, against the balls of my feet. I push up, out, past, down, over and over. Fist prints, foot kicks. Shaping, molding, making below the plane, at the surface, a horizontal field. Maintaining the boundaries of my own reach.

Always keep a part of your body fixed in the center.**

Italicized Sources: Sites to mark, In the Forest, Letha Wilson, Possible Press Vol. 1, Issue 2, Sept 1 2010 *Email exchange between Letha Wilson and Brie Ruais, May 18, 2017 **Spreading Outward from Center, Score for Other Women’s Bodies, 2015-2016, Brie Ruais