Martha Russo: caesura

Marie Walsh Sharpe Gallery of Contemporary Art at the Ent Center for the Arts

5225 N. Nevada Avenue, Colorado Springs, CO 80918

August 3-December 2, 2023

Admission: Free

Review by José Antonio Arellano

I want to invoke metaphors of geological time to describe the sense of temporality invoked by Martha Russo’s exhibition at the Ent Center for the Arts. Apart from the pandemic-related interruptions that delayed its possibility, the nature of the work itself is accumulative, and labor and time-intensive. With this exhibition—titled caesura, on view until December 2— the Gallery of Contemporary Art (GOCA) proves itself as a site committed to advancing what could be possible in the arts in Colorado Springs.

A view of Martha Russo’s installation *phase shift (wattling)* at the Ent Center for the Arts, 2023, shredded aspen tree wattles, plastic netting, biodegradable cloth netting, metal plates, and rebar. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

Before passing into the Marie Walsh Sharpe Gallery, visitors are greeted by an overflow of “wattles” that appear to multiply and grow of their own accord. As the exhibition brochure puts it, these objects have been “freed” from their typical function and context of erosion mitigation. [1] Against the reflective exterior of the Ent Center, the wattles seem to merge and morph.

They also appear in the Center’s main hallway like an invasive species taking over unused spaces. The netted intestinal shapes contain shredded aspens—remnants of an organism that clones itself. This is flora momentarily interrupted from the usual cycles of growth and decay, shifted into something else (the wattle) that is itself displaced from function by becoming incorporated into art.

A detail view of Martha Russo’s installation *phase shift (wattling)* at the Ent Center for the Arts, 2023, shredded aspen tree wattles, plastic netting, biodegradable cloth netting, metal plates, and rebar. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

Not technically part of caesura, the wattles are part of phase shift (wattling), which shares some of caesura’s themes. By dislodging the wattles from their usual sites and diverting them from their normal functions, phase shift (wattling) converts the objects into aesthetic forms that could induce in us an awareness of time beyond our usual categories—a temporality beyond us.

A ledge view of Martha Russo’s installation *phase shift (wattling)* at the Ent Center for the Arts, 2023, shredded aspen tree wattles, plastic netting, biodegradable cloth netting, metal plates, and rebar. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

The tone of this work is simultaneously playful and a bit unnerving. The forms’ utilitarian burlap color is not what we would describe as whimsical or pretty. The number and mass of the forms induce something closer to sublimity than beauty, but not sublimity exactly. Perhaps a more recent aesthetic category, that of the “zany,” is better suited to describe the atmosphere they create. I am referring to Sianne Ngai’s account that describes “zany performers… constantly in motion and in flight from precarious situations.” [2]

A view of the title wall of Martha Russo’s exhibition *caesura* at the Marie Walsh Sharpe Gallery of Contemporary Art, along with parts of the installation *phase shift (wattling)*. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

In phase shift, it is the objects themselves—without their performing and working human counterparts—that appear in such situations, vertiginously hanging from ledges and attached to walls in contortionist poses. The wattles appear to perform, but this performance cannot help but register the human labor required to pull this off.

A view of Martha Russo’s series *pensum*, 2023, acrylic and hardware, 51 x 62 x 16 inches each. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

When entering the Marie Walsh Sharpe Gallery, visitors will see a series of clear biomorphic forms, titled pensum, that do not appear to be hung so much as allowed to organically grow out of the wall. The gallery’s sympathetic lighting diffuses through the material, creating elegant shadows. Compared to the wattles, these forms suggest a much slower sense of movement—an imperceptible seeping as that of resin crystallizing over time.

A view of Martha Russo’s *lacuna*, 2023, porcelain, paperclay, metal, wood, polyethylene foam, tracing paper, adhesives, epoxy, and hardware, 24 x 7 x 12 feet. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

Moving away from these forms, we appear to enter into a different habitat, as if wading into oceanic depths. Titled lacuna, the two large objects in the gallery’s center appear as reef-like masses that accumulate the organic shapes of aquatic life. Hundreds of differently colored and shaped ceramic forms, from shell-like pieces to coiled and unfurling tendrils, assemble to form the two large masses.

A detail view of Martha Russo’s *lacuna*, 2023, porcelain, paperclay, metal, wood, polyethylene foam, tracing paper, adhesives, epoxy, and hardware, 24 x 7 x 12 feet. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

Arranged by color and shape, which implies purpose and function, these parts seem to have accumulated over an expanse of time; indeed, they appear to have always existed inside of the gallery. My term “always” refers not to eternity but to time measured in… decades? Centuries? How does one convey a sense of what John McPhee describes as “deep time”? [3] Yet, slight and delicate, the brittle ceramic could break with the slightest inattentive gesture.

A view of Martha Russo’s *incubo*, 2023, glass, porcelain, paperclay, metal, glaze materials, and mixed media, 24 x 10 x 3 feet. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

Along two of the gallery’s walls, the petri-dish-shaped ceramics collectively titled incubo sit atop glass tables meant to appear as microscope slides. Created during the pandemic lockdown, Russo gave herself the constraints of only using the materials available in her studio. [4] She would create with a sense of play and curiosity but also determined urgency fueled by the anxieties of the unknown. Just what, exactly, was threatening to haunt our lungs? Where did it come from? What did it look like? By capturing a sense of the hovering ghost, Russo converted affect into concept, anxiety into curiosity.

A detail view of Martha Russo’s *incubo*, 2023, glass, porcelain, paperclay, metal, glaze materials, and mixed media, 24 x 10 x 3 feet. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

Russo provides sculptural images—including lungs punctured with nails— that we could at the very least confront. This is work that is a testament of the human spirit seeking to make sense of our world through the intersection of effort and play that might lead to discovery. What we can do in the face of dread, these pieces suggest, is get to work and revel in the pleasure of it, not because our efforts are for sale but because work is how we make sense of our world. We can work and confront and with any luck, we will not be doing so alone.

A view of Martha Russo’s *chute*, 2016, porcelain, porcelain casting slip, aluminum, paper clay, pine needles, string, rope, kitchen sponges, plastic mesh fruit bags, pinecones, potato, and wire, 156 x 9 x 24 inches. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

What happens, though, when the efforts exerted by our bodies lead to the very problem we must face? What do we do when our bodies break down, as they surely will, despite the strength of our spirit? Hanging in its own space inside the gallery, the piece titled chute tilts at an angle. The work invokes our weight-bearing spines and the inevitability of their decline. Materials including sponges and pine needles dipped in ceramic slip mimic the vertebrae and organic masses positively “holding” us “up.” I was reminded of a factory assembly line that gets clogged, creating problems in efficiency. Here, productivity is negatively “held up” by breaking down.

A detail view of Martha Russo’s *chute*, 2016, porcelain, porcelain casting slip, aluminum, paper clay, pine needles, string, rope, kitchen sponges, plastic mesh fruit bags, pinecones, potato, and wire, 156 x 9 x 24 inches. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

The idea of assembly lines and bottlenecks led me to wonder about the side effects of production. What role do our efforts play in creating the conditions for erosion and flooding? Why do we seem to see wattles more often? I did not get the sense that Russo’s work points to an anti-humanist answer to these questions, such that our erasure would constitute a solution.

A view of Martha Russo’s exhibition *caesura* at Marie Walsh Sharpe Gallery of Contemporary Art at the Ent Center for the Arts. Image by Wes Magyar, courtesy of GOCA at UCCS.

Russo emanates a contagious enthusiasm and competence that activates networks and magnetizes support. Hundreds of people were surely involved, providing the materials, finances, transportation, engineering skills, and the overall quiet but plucky know-how we too often take for granted. The amount of resources and labor this exhibition required to complete, from Russo and the GOCA staff, including Lynné Bowman Cravens and Abigail Kopetzky, was propelled by a collective belief in the value of displaying this work. This art grants us the awareness that collective effort rendered in good faith will be proof of its intrinsic worth. This worth might redeem the fragility of our built environments and institutions, the instability of our bodies, and the very temporality of it all.

José Antonio Arellano (he/his) is an Associate Professor of English and Fine Arts at the United States Air Force Academy. He holds a Ph.D. in English Language and Literature from the University of Chicago. He is currently working on two manuscripts titled Race Class: Reading Mexican American Literature in the Era of Neoliberalism, 1981-1984 and Life in Search of Form: 20th Century Mexican American Literature and the Problem of Art.

[1] From https://gocadigital.org/outdoor-exhibitions/martha-russo.

[2] Sianne Ngai, Our Aesthetic Categories: Zany, Cute, Interesting (Harvard University Press, 2015), 182.

[3] John A. McPhee, Basin and Range (Farrar, Straus, Giroux, 1983), 20.

[4] Martha Russo, Press Preview, July 31, 2023.