Statement

I blur the line between human and animal in my paintings, making portraits of monkeys and apes imbued with qualities that seem unique to our species while exaggerating that which makes them different from us. Beyond simply anthropomorphizing these primates I am interested in creating psychological depictions of them that open up possibilities for the viewer to re-asses where they stand in relation to these animals. Simians interest me because, as our closest relatives in the wild, they often seem peculiarly human yet remain exotic and 'other.' These contradictory qualities invite us to consider ourselves in a different light, perhaps recognizing certain of our traits as 'animal' while acknowledging some level of 'humanity' in these animals. I want my portraits to capture such disparate qualities and confuse what it means to be human as the viewer looks at them, seeing themselves in the aspects that seem familiar while at the same time seeing the 'other' in themselves - and vice versa.

Other artists, Henri Rousseau and Tony Oursler among them, have dealt with liminal portrayals of animals and humans, creating images that allow us to evaluate what it means to be animal and question what is recognizably human in depictions. Rousseau represents animals in painted constructions of nature that are pure fabrication, having no analogue in the world beyond his canvases. Within Rousseau's romanticized jungle scenes he includes many depictions of monkeys that are so strikingly humanoid in appearance and pose that the viewer is left to question whether Rousseau is implying that we are a bunch of monkeys or that perhaps monkeys are more human than they seem.

Tony Oursler's work is altogether different from Rousseau's, but it also asks questions about the condition of being human. Oursler made a series of collages consisting of amorphous, organic shapes on which photographs of human eyes were placed, making these blob-like shapes appear uncannily human with only a minimal indication of human appearance. He reveals that there can be a very fine line between what we do and do not perceive as human. While Rousseau's and Oursler's work shares little formal similarity, both show that the distinctions which make us human are not so clear. This is what I find most important in the works of these artists. While I tackle this common issue as well, I do so in a very different manner informed in part by recent scientific studies which assert complex relationships between ourselves and animals in the wild.

Behavioral scientists and biologists are finding that many attributes once considered to be solely human such as culture, tool use, innovation – even language and compassion – seem to have roots in the animal world. The possibility of so many behavioral and emotional parallels leads to a growing ambiguity about what it means to be human or animal. To address this ambiguity I place monkeys and apes against backgrounds consisting of color fades and gradients to create a certain sense of limbo and displacement. I provide a different context in which to encounter these animals, removed from zoos with faux-natural settings and apart from images of them in their natural habitats, to see if this can dissolve preconceived ideas of what they are supposed to be. I tend to choose primates that have distinctly different physical traits from humans so an immediate relationship between us and them is unclear. I slow the read of my paintings by making subtle changes to these animals, like replacing their eyes with my own, providing an opportunity to get beyond the first impression to a lasting impression of commonality. Sometimes I choose monkeys and apes that are already posed in rather humanoid manners to stress our similarities. I paint these primates with a mix of graphic abstraction and realism so they are both uncanny and obviously constructed. This gives the viewer a chance to connect with what seems real, while acknowledging that the images I paint are fantasies. Ultimately my paintings are sites for imaginative speculation where barriers can break down and new connections and considerations can be made.

I focus on the notion of humanity within the human/animal interface to break down the dichotomy between these polarizing labels. My paintings transgress this boundary to encourage viewers to question how they define humanity as separate from animal and to see a greater level of continuity between themselves and the natural world.

Evelena Ruether's Continued Retention

Walking down the hall toward my studio I suddenly hear a distant, but still jarring rumble of crumpled, white noise. Following this perplexing sound leads me to a door. I open it and suddenly I'm overwhelmed by a bellow of low mechanical groans, and the shrill cry of metal scraping against metal. "What the hell is that," I wonder after recovering from the temporary mental and physical paralysis caused by an acute auditory overload. Before I discover exactly what the sound is, I look around the room and deduce it's origin,"It must be coming from that glowing cube of shipping pallets on the floor there." As I approach this enigmatic construction for further inspection the sounds become more clear. I recognize the motor and shifting transmission of a tractor-trailer along with the screech of its breaks. This sonance is mixed with other ambient noise, sounding like a shipping yard. With one puzzle solved I'm still left with the riddle of this thing on floor making so much racket.

It is constructed from rustic, grimy, and presumably used shipping pallets - the apparent property of Coca-Cola Enterprises. These perhaps illicitly obtained wooden pallets are fashioned together to make a cube. Two opposing sides are in original form while the other four pieces sandwiched between them are cut smaller, creating an object thirty six inches on all sides. Tightly housed within the core of this cube is a smaller, translucent acrylic cube covered by images on its top and one of its sides. It is illuminated by an inner light source, causing the images and blank pieces of acrylic to glow, creating a stark contrast between the white light of the acrylic and the silhouetted wood slats passing in front it. The image on top is of cracked and chipped safety glass reinforced with wire. Following down, the image on the side of the sculpture is of an interior scene (perhaps an apartment or some sort of industrial space) filled with stacks of boxes, some full while others are open - either being packed or emptied.

The materials used to construct this object, the imagery that appears on it, and the sound emanating from it combine to form an uneasy idea about transition and moving between spaces. The sound of the trucks and the shipping yard suggest the movement of materials, products, and possessions while the pallets are a physical link to the activity generating these sounds. The image of boxes on this object indicates that someone is moving - either into or from a particular space. The cracked safety glass suggests that perhaps this place is industrial or institutional and not terribly comfortable. The slats of the pallets that pass in front of the images resemble a cage, creating the sensation of being trapped. The glow that pours from the acrylic box is stark and bright. This glowing box is encased in an overbearing structure of splintered wood that is filled with bent nails and smeared with dark grease and dirt. These elements combine to create an uncomfortable feeling about transition suggesting an unending process of moving between places where one is trapped in a state transit. The disruptive sound of the trucks continually loops and the boxes are never fully packed or un-packed, proposing a constant state of flux in which one is never settled. The initial discord of the sound down the hall has opened into a disquieting experience with a work that offers the viewer little comfort, leaving me free to go about the rest of my day plagued with a subtle pang of insecurity.