Whimsical arrangements, doused in sunlight, line the window ledges of what were once two adjoining East End shop units. Pieces of moulded concrete, cloth, ribbon, wire and paper rub shoulders with one another in delicate collages of mismatched matter. The groupings seem spontaneous yet the positioning of each, against the paving-stone mosaic of the world beyond the windows, forces us to question our concept of coincidence.
These clever constructions are the work of German-born Karin Ruggaber, now based in London. She speaks in sculpture. A swarm of stones stick to the gallery wall, another to the floor of the second room. Other items appear, as if by accident, like imposters: a patch of cloth, a curve of wire mesh, a chunk of bark. There is a collective essence that permeates the show however, meaning the disparity is lost.
The marked presence of diagonal lines is a theme continued in the exhibition’s final work, found not within the four walls of Peer but on the gallery’s website. In Ruggaber’s online film piece, a wobbling camera cuts from house to house. Viewer turns voyeur, looking from the bushes at glum visions of residential buildings – the architecture of each dominated by sharp, linear arrangements.
Ruggaber creates a dialogue between her work and its situation, manipulating the surrounding space. By placing it behind shop windows and laptop screens, she drags art – usually considered an exclusive medium – kicking and screaming into the public domain.
Morgan Meaker