What we see: an orchestrated chaos of tipped-out silver, yarn, bird food, plastic buckets, vitamin supplements, pollen, sawdust, cables, and other things. It seems as if the placement of the objects was done incidentally. Residues of all kinds have collected in the rooms, like flotsam washed onto a shore by the water. It remains unclear whether all of this was done deliberately or, instead, through idleness and negligence. Can one really be distinguished from the other, if we accept that a form arises not only through active doing but also through passive activity—by receiving things and letting them happen? Life shows us that the events that transpire are far more than a simple chain of cause and effect. At times, it seems as if things fall into place in their own mysterious way. In this exhibition, it is sometimes no more than a gust of wind from an open door that rearranges the things on display, just as our mere physical presence causes the sculptural configuration within  the space to change and shift.

Jason Dodge’s practice emanates from the idea that every thing is contained within everything else, and that our emotional and spiritual existence can be found in the tiniest granular fragments of the material world. The objects strewn across the floor create a quiet trace of absent (non-)human presences while also reminding us that we are present in the world as bodies as well as minds—that our existence is made up of organic, toxic, concrete, fleeting, and emotional substances and far more besides. There are moments in the exhibition when an absence (and a vacuum of meaning) manifests itself —such as when a physical vacancy and a cut appear in place of a title—while at others the things suddenly become alive and present and a concrete memory, a feeling, or a clear image emerges. In the movement between appearance and disappearance, the exhibition feels at once both very concrete and very abstract.

In a further sense, it also speaks of the desire and potential to effect a change in frequency. We might think of the ways in which quotidian words take on new and selfwilled meaning in a poem. Isolated from their usual context of use, rearranged on a blank page in stanzas and verses, they take on a different emotional hue that goes far beyond the known and familiar. Jason Dodge’s poetics, by contrast, is one without words; a haptic, sculptural poetics that uses layering, densification, emptiness, concealment, and disclosure to shift the tonality of spaces and things. Moods and tempers condense in this strange and immersive landscape alongside the remainders of silver, chamomile leaves, wood, and the empty sound of flickering lamps. 

Text by Kunsthalle Friart Fribourg