Play of scale

 

Anna Rún's exhibition offers viewers a glimpse into a world in search of balance.

 

She presents her work across two galleries, each emphasizing a different aspect of artistic practice: the creative process on the one hand, and its outcome on the other. Gathered here are two kinds of drawings—those made by hand and those that, in a sense, make themselves. There are also drawings that mirror one another structurally. Aditionally Anna Rún presents an installation that remains in continuous transformation throughout the exhibition. By introducing dripping water and pigment, she creates a set of conditions that gives rise to an organic sequence of events. This process revolves around the balance between two components of a single drawing apparatus, each dependent on the other to sustain the creative act. The installation thus becomes an unfolding artistic process rather than the finished result of artistic production. One might view this exhibition format in relation to theatre or performance art, where the works quite literally come into being before the viewers' eyes over a defined period of time. This also brings to mind the delicate balance between the works themselves and their audience. Collectively, the exhibition rejects the notion of a singular truth and instead generates meaning through an active search for equilibrium. By directing the viewer's attention toward the artistic process over time, Anna Rún challenges the assumption that she, as the artist, began with a predetermined goal or sought to communicate a fixed subjective expression. As a result, the works remain open to interpretation. The circle immediately evokes ideas of infinity and the eternal cycle, and this is how many of the works are experienced—particularly the installation in The Pit. It begins whenever and wherever one encounters it, and likewise ends wherever and whenever the encounter concludes. The scope of the work is shaped by the presence of each viewer: whether one observes it briefly from the staircase above, or lingers, walking around it and absorbing its quiet, gradual progression. The circle is a symbol of wholeness, of a unified set, yet in this case its existence depends upon the interaction of a pair. Pairing and repetition are often employed to challenge the notion of singularity or a single, definitive meaning, though repetition can equally serve as emphasis or reinforcement. The pair of bottles balancing salt at opposite ends of the beam appears simultaneously as a unified sculpture and as the interaction of opposing forces, resisting any central or singular idea. Repetition is, in fact, something of an illusion. John Cage argued that when we believe something is being repeated, it is generally because we have failed to pay sufficient attention to its details: "If we examine things carefully, as though looking at the smallest objects through a microscope, it becomes obvious that repetition does not exist." These words resonate strongly with Anna Rún's work. A specific process has been programmed to repeat endlessly, yet each phase leaves behind new traces with different consequences. The longer the process unfolds, the more apparent these cumulative effects become. The drawing that gradually forms across the floor invites close observation. One easily becomes absorbed in the miniature world of salt crystals and subtle colour variations, almost as though peering through a microscope. The outcome of the process seems to draw itself automatically, and may therefore appear more detached from the artist than the works Anna Rún has created by hand in the other room. Yet, to return once again to Cage, this is a matter of a "controlled process of chance." In both his music and visual art, Cage relied upon chance, while insisting on defining the conditions within which chance could operate. For him, artistic practice was about asking the right questions far more than arriving at predetermined conclusions.Anna Rún approaches her work in much the same spirit. She reveals the process and all of its underlying conditions—that is where her primary interest lies—while also allowing us to appreciate its results. She has spent recent years experimenting with drawing in her studio and in previous exhibitions, using ink or watercolour diluted in water and allowed to drip onto paper. As the water evaporates, the physical properties of the pigment take over, arranging themselves into concentric rings radiating from the point of contact. By introducing salt into this equation, entirely new dimensions emerge in the behaviour of the materials. The final outcome is nearly impossible to predict or control, since so many unforeseen factors influence the result. Anna Rún has explored a similarly unpredictable approach in sculpture, kneading salt into the centre of a lump of clay and then allowing physical processes to complete the work. The salt draws moisture from within the clay, drying it from the inside rather than through conventional evaporation from the surface. Having closely examined the fascinating images and forms produced through this methodology, Anna Rún now shifts both her own attention and ours toward the process itself, as demonstrated by the installation in The Pit. As a moving sculpture, the installation nevertheless shares important qualities with the framed works. The human body is a recurring theme in Anna Rún's practice, particularly in her exploration of expression and perception. Her works remind us that communication is fundamentally rooted in the physical capacities of the body, even though mutual understanding can sometimes seem almost metaphysical. Viewed from this perspective, one instinctively begins searching for bodily associations. The installation, based on liquid dripping from suspended bottles, inevitably carries medical connotations that reinforce these ideas, while its measured rhythm suggests breathing, as though the work itself were alive. It would, however, be unwise to push interpretation too far in any one direction. As noted earlier, these are fundamentally open works that invite viewers to interpret them freely. The simple pleasure of observing the strange and compelling process unfolding before us is, in itself, reward enough. Ultimately, the exhibition is at once a presentation of sculptures and drawings, a performance, a dance piece, and a lesson in physics.

 

Markús Þór Andrésson