Libby Rothfeld
Rampage

March 26–June 25 2023

Opening Reception
Sunday March 26
3–7pm

1. The two dogs in the picture are Bunny and Patty–the golden retriever is the mom and the black and white one is her baby. I saved this picture and kept it in one of my files on my computer that’s in: ImgaesforwOrk/Dogs. I go on PetFinder.com sometimes, with a hot cup of coffee, and pretend I am about to get a dog or a cat. I can’t have one because I’m not home enough and I think they would be anxious, so we would both be anxious.

 

2. There once was this school assembly in middle school where a police officer came and had a man next to him that he ignored and said nothing about. When the man left, we realized the cop had tricked us and asked us to tell him what he looked like–making students raise their hands, because they learned they were supposed to try, and tell him what the man was wearing. I can’t completely remember, but I think no one got it right. I don’t think it’s that we weren’t paying attention or not seeing it, but that when something is not in front of us, or meant to be seen or acknowledged, it becomes this mass of thing with no language or articulation. So, in that moment, his pieces of clothing, his eye, his ear, his glove, were not distinct objects because when he is ¼ present he is just a blur on the sidelines, a boundaryless two dimensional amalgamation of everything on him. Maybe we could have all explained how he made us feel if he had asked. That being said, there is some kind of inversion of this, of the negative space of the person who we never saw. How the dangerous stranger, who does not want you to see them, carries with them, as they walk toward you, all of their objects, their hands and hats, which have the potential of ruining or haunting your life, or at least, impressing upon you the amorphous memory of a person you almost barely saw. But if they do nothing instead, and pass you, they continue to be nothing and noone, and someone who was just never there. But, this is not really about an event, butthe power of a thing we’re not seeing. The thing that’s not completely there, which could also just disappear without anyone noticing, has some kind of deeper intrinsic value which we aren’t capable of accessing. But if you were to stare at this thing long enough, at some point, it will shift, or blow up, or reveal something ineffable, and if you just wait, and keep looking, you will see it.

Inspection #1, 2023
31.5 x 13 inches
Inspection #1, 2023
31.5 x 13 inches
Good Night From Elvis, 2023
Wood, oil paint, glue, wood stain, screws
52 x 32.25 x 32.75 inches
Inspection #2, 2023
19 x 18 inches
Inspection #2, 2023
19 x 18 inches
Inspection #2, 2023
19 x 18 inches
Inspection #3 (Near the Feet), 2023
19 x 13.5 inches
Inspection #3 (Near the Feet), 2023
19 x 13.5 inches