IT’S A THIN LINE by Jennifer Rudder (2021)

Emovere, from the Latin verb ‘emovere,’ meaning to move out, remove or agitate, as well as to emote, or to express emotion. 

In the series of sculptural works Emovere, Carrie Perreault’s unique and startling work stands out, forcing us to pause and pull us in to take another look. Perreault employs common, domestic objects that appear alien, unrecognizable.  The shapes and sizes of the objects emit an uncanny familiarity suggesting the aura of the basement. Something in the basement.  Something we rely on, that is hidden, not visible or unacknowledged. At first glance, the sculptural shapes are familiar but separated from their utilitarian purpose and on view in an art gallery, the ventilation registers and galvanized steel connecting elbows are unrecognizable. Utilizing the standard materials to set broken bones - a mix of plaster and cement with pigments - the agents solidify hidden and unacknowledged elements that both support and heal. Separated from their usual position above our heads and camouflaged in the sickly colours of Pepto Bismol and Tensor compression bandages, Perreault’s solid objects of cooling and heating systems reflect our emotional and psychological connection to home.  

With its heavy deflated inner tubes, the work Sometimes I think I lost my guts too, hangs on gallery’s walls and evokes the sagging weight of the body’s internal organs. The melancholy ‘guts’ recall the prodigious work of female sculptors of the 1960s, such as Eva Hesse’s ‘New Minimalism’ in New York City, Jana Sterbak’s “Meat Dress” and body of work in 1980s Canada, and of course French American artist Louise Bourgeois’ demanding, often phallic pieces.  These seminal works were often critiqued as “severe.” With her lustrous, drooping rubber inner tubes, Perreault joins the legion of women artists who challenged the elevated position of the male sculptors of the time, drawing attention back to the body – inside as well as out. Then again, to ‘have guts’ means nerves of steel, and to have lost them, the sad-sack inner tubes could be seen as a loss of nerve or trepidation.

Perreault exhibits her first undertaking with VR (virtual reality) work in the newly renovated space The Shed at Gallery Stratford. Immersed, the viewer finds themselves in a state of clashing realities, recognizing both the made objects in the virtual space and an expansive encompassing photo of a panorama not unfamiliar to the region and Perreault's childhood landscape. The objects that clutter the viewer's immediate space are ghostly echoes of traffic pylons typically in orange and black stripes. While the viewer can walk through the virtual sculptures, the realistic scale challenges the viewer's relationship to the medium. Through the works on display, Perreault shows us what exactly is in front of us, but in doing so, she also redirects our path.