new-york

Gillian Jagger

Anita Shapolsky Gallery

Gillian Jagger’s lead forms—marvels of raw, proliferating texture—hang like flayed carcasses or sit like creatures freshly mutated from the earth. Yet none of these metaphors are adequate to the horrendous physicality of Jagger’s sculptural objects. Speaking of the derivation of her work from natural surface, Jagger remarks: “All things in nature . . . resemble each other in their folding, tearing, cracking, wrinkling kind of way, and in this way humans and animals resemble trees and rocks.” The crumbling of our skin, in other words, reminds us of our kinship with nature, asserts its eternal, primordial rule over us. Jagger has in effect captured spontaneous flow—petrified magma, without losing the sense that it is fresh from a recent eruption. Death and Eros blend indistinguishably in one grand sculptural gesture.

The variation and irregularity of surface Jagger is obsessed with—the sense

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