‘Socket to sit in’rouses spirits at Parlour and Ramp
The Pilsen gallery shows work by four ambitious local artists.
March 12, 2024
Liv Sciford's mural of a darkened doorway quietly extends the gallery and recalls the past life of the home.Credit: Maclovio Orozco
The spirit of Chicago’s young artist scene is alive at Parlour and Ramp, a funeral home-turned-art gallery in Pilsen that supports community-oriented programming. “Socket to sit in,” the gallery’s current exhibition, features four ambitious local artists carving out an eccentric, unashamed niche for their work.
Vibrant works play off each other through explorations of materiality and form. “Pimples” of plaster and textiles by CM Clemente sprout from the hardwood floors, with Pimple #25 (The Open Rose) tilting its seeing head inward to face companion sculptures across the room. JohnClaud Valentine Ruder’s Pillow’s Parable series of wonderfully gaudy hanging assemblages, stuffed with everything from upholstery trim to raffia grass, dangle above Clemente’s protuberance. Together, the sculptures activate their corner with a creaturely charm.
Opposite this pairing, a ceramic puppet by Timnah Rosenshine entitled King Zed appears to dance on the wall—an animated spectator whose light tones complement the sculptures he faces. Elsewhere, a haunting graphite mural drawn on-site by Liv Sciford abates the crowding of more colorful works. Its depiction of a darkened doorway and overlapping figural shadows quietly extend the gallery and recall the past life of the home.
These pimples, pillows, puppets, and more live happily with one another while asserting their enthusiastic expression—forging their own socket to sit in. The exhibition is impressively cohesive and refreshingly energetic with its range of mediums and inspirations. Fostered by the dedication of the artists running Parlour and Ramp, the earnestness of “socket to sit in” is palpable, conjuring an exhibition full of character.
Structured Impermanence at Parlour and Ramp
By Annette LePique
“Fibers seep open upon gallery walls, wounds and jellyfish both float, and pain crosses the threshold into the home of your ribcage. In the center of the dark paneled laminate floor Jeyaranjan’s face down, I lay frozen in motion (2022) appears like a spectral bed. Steel bracings hold fabrics and batting aloft in the shape of a sinking, sickly bed. The white of the fabrics is faded, like long ago hospitals or morgues. Birth, death, angels and demons, or something in-between them all lay within the sheets. Black tea combines with pigment to sit atop the batting like an ill humor, staining rivulets of white to brown. The sculpture contains the imprint of absent bodies, ones once come undone in animal fear and ecstasy. There is a scene in Bones where Maren finally finds her long lost mother in a sanatorium. The sanatorium sits on the outside of a dirt road town, a feared and haunted place where sickness reigns. The concrete walls look like prison. An attendant escorts her to her mothers quarters, where she peers fearfully and fitfully out from behind a corner. It is revealed that Maren’s mother is also a cannibal and throughout the years she has self-cannibalized her arms and legs. I lay frozen in motion is the bed where your mother laid, strapped bare and out of her mind with the overwhelming immensity of being human. The only way to cool the fire in your skin is to bite down as hard as you can. Black tea pools against knotted batting like vaginal discharge or the ghosts of stillbirth. I lay frozen is a moment, a sculpture, time without hands, a love letter where the words bleed off the page.”
The pilsen open
Honorable Mention - Nico Tovar
