formULAting Echoes
Categories: art, nature

After completing Echoes: Listening to the Voices in Spirited Trees, I became inundated with other works that contained the words voices and echoes.  After so much time writing and rewriting, I was still asking myself, what exactly is an echo?  One artist in particular reappeared in my life, Ula Einstein.  I had viewed and written about her work on display at the Contemporary Souvenirs exhibition in January 2011.  Then again, souvenir, means to remember, to come again.  Sliced and slashed, Ula’s work, UnNatural Causes, was memorable like a scar.

Delicate white lace-like topographies hanging from white tree branches by Ula Einstein grace the walls.  Made of Tyvek, a protective air barrier sheathed over a house before the final exterior finish is applied, Einstein decided to bring this invisible layer to the surface.  Through a blade cutting process, she allows air to penetrate through slicing organic images of vines and puncturing abstract bubbles.   A knife blade is an unforgiving tool, as each line remains, continuously flowing into the next mark.   Einstein draws with fire, thread, and wire recalling that many times it is often from painful wounds that we learn our most valuable lessons.  The Tyvek series remind me of excavated fossils and how we must excavate our past to reconstruct our future. (from the review, Inside the Snowglobe)

Over a year late, when I discovered that she had created a body of work called Echoes, I decided to reconnect again to discover even more connections.  If UnNatural Causes breathed and heaved, bulged, whispered, inhaled and exhaled, I was curious to know what would Echoes say?

When we think of echoes, sounds come to mind, sounds traveling through a void, perhaps from a mountain top, or an empty hall, a deep well, or a dark tunnel.  We seem to know what an echo would sound like because it comes from within us and those that come from afar have already reached us too.  The echo grows more faint.  What would an echo look like?  Like concentric rings, overlapping?  Vibrating lines?  Crashing waves lapping the shore?  Repeating rows of sun worshipping sun flowers?  A hand cupping an ear like parentheses?

For Ula, like me, there exists a strong sense of interconnectedness, a universal type of fragments creating a whole.  Her work Echoes, composed of white rice paper, is bubbly, ethereal, molecular, atmospheric like altocumulus clouds.

Last on exhibit at the Everhart Museum of Science, Culture and Art in Pennsylvania from August through December of 2011, Ula’s orbs of Echoes are figured and reconfigured specific to the exhibit site.  From floor to ceiling, the work’s form changes, bending, breathing but always bonding.  This is an echo, an energetic, airy, molecular movement with a nucleus, simultaneously growing fainter and louder, weaker and stronger held together by gentle force.




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