Drop Out/The Wedding Quilt/Glimmer of Wild Patience

Overview

Examining the dark underbelly of suburban Australiana, Drop Out by Toby Pola consists of a series of balsa wood carvings that investigate rituals, obsessions and iconography. Solid replicas of woolen sweaters (just like that one your great-Aunt Joan always gives you for Christmas) hang alongside a collage of a McDonalds bag, the bustier of a cat and the latest issue of BUNS magazine. Sounds like a perfect Friday night in to me.

Maybe as part of the imaginary fast-food bag contents, a larger than life sculpture of a soft serve ice cream takes pride of place in the center of the space, perhaps an artistic interpretation of Australia’s growing obesity problem? A Freudian phallic symbol? Or maybe Pola just had a craving for a 50-cent cone. While these objects are seemingly mundane, work titles like Waiting to be invisible, furious to be ignored, Losers blame their parents, failures blame their kids and He’s going to hell on a poker suggest something greater lying beneath the surface of hard veneers and glossy exteriors in these recreated objects.

Nearby in Gallery 2, Lucas Grogan’s installation The Wedding Quilt celebrates the evolving and diversifying definition of marriage. A double bed stands in the middle of the room, although there’s no champagne on ice or strawberries dipped in chocolate in sight. Spoiler: TV lied to us about marriage. Covered in 4,000 blue roses, basking under an ominously dripping blue rainbow, Grogan’s hand embroidered quilt is emblazoned with inspiring quotes, such as, “opinions are like arse holes so enjoy yours” and “low and behold, the sky didn’t cave in”. Love is so complicated and beautiful.

Striking a balance between beauty and morbidity, the back gallery space is occupied by Eddy Carroll’s exhibition, Glimmer of Wild Patience. Based on an Inuit skeleton myth relating to loss, fear and compassion, Carroll uses skeletal shapes adorned with hand-me-down jewelry, found objects, native feathers and thread, to slightly unsettling affect. Long, bejeweled strands drip from a skull in Galaxy Head, while beside it sits the aptly titled Clavicle, made of leather, felt and beads. In a room filled with the suggestion of that which is internal (both literally and philosophically), it’s as though Carroll has dissected the human body, assembled it in order and laid it out for show in all its gore and glory.

Image credit Toby Fola