shannon gerard
My visual art practice operates across several platforms and media. I write, draw and publish in a variety of forms including on-line comics, periodical illustrations, trade-paperback graphic fiction, and self-published artist’s books and multiples. Thematically I am very curious about issues such as magic, hope, faith and human frailty. I also produce large-scale installations that incorporate stop-motion animations and digital print, and spend at least 50% of my waking life crocheting soft sculptures.
A lot of my work employs play as a research strategy. Areas of interest include the mindset of the collector, the sculptural and performative possibilities suggested by books and book-objects, the conceptual space that books occupy beyond the presentation of texts and images, and how the social position of works (in other words, where we tend to encounter particular modes of art) mediates how we become engaged as readers/viewers.
I am also really getting into marionettes.
I love to work with small gallery shops and retailers! If you are interested in carrying my crochet work or books, please contact me via email (shannon AT shannongerard DOT org, or click the envelope icon below) for wholesale prices and policies.
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projects
- UNSPENT LOVE
- BLOOD & THUNDER
- plants you can't kill
- BOOBS & DINKS
- PLAYING DOCTOR
- PLUSHTACHE
- anatomical hearts
- crocheted coral reef
- SWORD of MY MOUTH
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1 post tagged thinkering
Yesterday I spent the afternoon at The Sharon Temple, listening to Winona Zelenka play Bach’s Cello Suites Nos. 1, 3 & 6.
The location, the acoustics, the light, the heat— every element conspired to magic. The mathematics of the building are perfect. From every angle, symmetry. The arches inside the temple so plainly echoed by the shape of her cello. And outside the open windows, the June world in which I grew. At one point, a pair of birds flew inside as she played.
In one of the out-lying buildings at the temple is a cross-stitch of the lyrics to The Doxology, a hymn I used to love singing as a child and teenager. It was locked up yesterday, so I couldn’t get a photo. This little recording, sung as slowly as I could manage, cannot communicate the loveliness of the breeze in the temple, nor come close to the sound (also rigorously mathematical) of Bach.
How I wish I could make music, but even more than that, I would love to be an instrument itself, such as the cello, that invites holding.
