Coarse is back with a Nightshade verison of their previous work Dark Sorrows. This piece is going to be special, coming in as a 1:1 scale replica of the original sculpture created
by Mark Landwehr and Sven Waschk for their Chicago solo Exhibition "Souls Gone Mad" at Rotofugi gallery.
This
second and final edition comes in all new desaturated natural tones. The statue
is contained in a screen-printed wooden box and securely encased in black
sponge. Each figure comes with a signed and numbered certificate! As always, Coarse has imbued their piece with their signature slick clean lines and infused it with their strange eye catching melancholy. This one is going to be a head turner
for sure. If I may play 'art critique' for a i minute, I feel it evokes a sad feeling, lamenting the gradual and continual
loss of the animal worl to human expansion, and in this unending expansion, we end up losing our own 'natural instincts' and in effect, our own souls.... I also like the purple box.
What
do you think?
- from Coarse's newsletter
Something moves in the
moonlight.A beast, Fever thinks. He is paralysed and shaken, frozen
in place. From his spot in the middle of the woods, he can see long
ears and a longer snout, eyes dark like wells dug too deep. The
creature stands still, lurking against the darkness of a tree trunk. He is
waiting for me, Fever thinks.
In an instant, a breeze descends upon the forest and turns the demon head
to face him. Fever holds back a scream as the impossible reveals itself:
the beast has no neck, no body, nothing beneath its hovering head.
Fever knows he should go the other way, but he inches towards it, scanning
the forest floor for the remains of the creature and any signs of the
phantom body that keeps it floating in the air.
Another breeze pushes through the woods, but this one is stronger. The
trees above waver in unison, shedding for a moment enough moonlight for
Fever to see what levitates before him: not a monster at all, but a mask,
it seems, hanging from a low branch.
Fever sighs, relieved, and reaches up to the head to inspect it. He tries
pulling it down and the branch snaps off, the mask falling to the ground.
Fever kneels down to pick it up and instinctively sets it on his head, the
weight of it slightly sinking his hands into the mud.
He expects to see only darkness, or that perhaps there will be slits
through which he can peer. Maybe he can wear the mask to ward off the bad
omens. He can be the forest’s resident scarecrow.
But when the mask is over his head, Fever sees something. Something
moving. At first it is blurry, but slowly it comes into focus. There is
water, and a girl, and two large hands gripping oars, rowing. At first he
thinks he is dreaming things up, so he removes the mask and shakes his
head, but when he puts it back on again, the scene is the same. The boat
is moving slowly through the water. And what is that? That in the
distance? It looks like a forest. Could it be this forest? Fever can see a
dock jutting out from the coastline.
He tries to move his head around to see what is behind him—what the boat is
sailing towards—but the mask will only show him what it wants to show him.
Whoever’s eyes Fever is in controls what he sees.
Suddenly, the girl in the boat looks up, and Fever nearly falls backwards
when he sees her face. It is his sister staring up at him. It is Ruth
crouching in the boat. Fever wonders how she got here in this forest in
his dream. He wonders if she is staring into the same mask he
is wearing, if she can see him through those dead and dreadful eyes.
Ruth begins to cry, and Fever tries to reach out his hands to console her,
but the hands of the beast keep rowing forward, unaware of Fever’s
attempts.
I must find her, Fever thinks, shuddering at the idea of any creature who
would wear this mask in the darkness of the night.
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