Meg Cranston

Karsten Schubert

In Meg Cranston’s The Swing, 1992, her version of Fragonard’s most famous image, the woman has a bucket dangling from her right foot. The conjunction of bucket and foot is the kind of relationship between things—one of dependence—that continually crops up in Cranston’s drawings. Nothing has a place of its own, it always hangs upon the presence of something else. At other times, as in The Swing, and many of the other drawings, this dependence is illustrated literally through Cranston’s habit of depicting things incorporated into mobiles, little elements strung together with bits of wire maybe, or twine, and left hanging free to move wherever circumstances might dictate. Sometimes, increasingly giving the impression that outside forces are at work, the bars that support these arrangements are crossed like the controls of a hand puppet. Untitled (Maserati), 1992, is just the car’s name, each

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