Fukushima Soil, Meteorites and The Lipstick 2016–ongoing

Fukushima Soil, Meteorites, & the Lipstick

Encasing an eclectic series of objects in octagonal prisms of resin, Fawn Rogers provides future viewers with evidence of life in the volatile present. Featured elements range from meteorite fragments to volcanic residue to an evocative tube of lipstick: a gamut of symbols centered on explosions of every kind, whether cosmic or orgasmic, manmade or natural, from the earth or from the sky. The resin shapes are molded from naturally occurring formations of crystallized lava. Geometric forms repre­sent confine­ment and an unchanging order, the explo­sion can be read as a symbol of change or trans­for­ma­tion. Each object seems to float in the translucent material, suspended in a permanent state of dynamic disarray. Elements are dispersed as if carelessly or violently thrown, a gesture hovering somewhere between randomness and intention. The resulting composition is a combination of planning and chance.

Rogers seems to revel in juxtaposing the cosmic scale with the individual and particular, pitting the politically significant against the ostensibly trivial. The materials ensconced in the work reflect this dissonance, highlighting eruptions and bursts produced by manmade processes, the natural world and the solar system—explosions are part of everyday life. Alongside the lipstick and meteorite, she includes soil from Fukushima, a smartphone, a marijuana joint and teeth whitener. Touching on the theme of brutal destruction and disruptive innovation, Fukushima Soil, Meteorites, & the Lipstick invites you to touch the soil radiated by the Fukushima nuclear disaster and human capacity to alter nature. Licht­en­stein began using repre­sen­ta­tions of explo­sions in his art at a time in when many people were preoc­cu­pied by the risk of a nuclear war. Andy Warhol tackled the subject of the explo­sion in various ways in his series Death and Disaster. Artist Cai Guo-Qiang “draws” with explo­sion and combus­tion. The emer­gence of the enor­mous draw­ings is in itself a happening, as for example in the Turbine Hall of the Tate Modern in London in 2003. The resulting compo­si­tion is a combi­na­tion of plan­ning and chance. 

In Rogers’s studio, collected and labeled like the specimens of a meticulous naturalist, are materials she will include in future iterations of this work. They include objects as diversely resonant as patented Monsanto corn, samples of terra preta (the most fertile soil in the world), seed smuggle books (used to illicitly transport heirloom seeds in defiance of national and international law), lynx fur, Timex watches, and rose bush thorns and panties. Concerns for ecology, biodiversity, and sustainable forms of life and agriculture recur in these choices, as they do throughout Rogers’s practice. While she foregrounds the effect, human beings have on the planet, her work also reflects a cognizance that we are inextricably part of the natural world. The watches, joints, and cosmetics speak to the passing of time, and to the human desire for youth, pleasure, and beauty. These objects are also souvenirs of our existence, just as the fur tufts are evidence of the lynx.

It would be easy for a conceptual description of the work to neglect its striking beauty. The objects lying frozen within their cloudy masses are only partially visible. The objects preserved and distorted by the volcanic shape, which functions simultaneously as artwork and plinth. Numerous works can be stacked on top of each other to create a unique and formidable totem that contains the past and present with an eye toward the future. Both visually nebulous and inflexibly archival, these are time capsules that subtly embody the mystery of the circumstances that might find them. The natural world, though indelibly affected by its human constituents, will survive our impact and continue to evolve. —Claudia Grigg Edo