The other day, I tried on shoes that were too big for me. The space in between my foot and the shoe was empty. I shook my foot around in the shoe and the hollow shoe jangled around my foot like a bell. There was nothing to fill the space.
There is not a lot of that in the world, of vacancy. So much space is accounted for; we are not good at emptiness. We have a knack for acquiring and filling. We ask ourselves what to keep and what to discard. We build and become vessels as conduits. We go through the world, swallowing as much as we can hold in our mouths, shaking it in our bodies, seeing how much might spill out.
We invented the vessel to hold, to carry. The first vessel may have been an eggshell; it was fragile. We craved longevity; a way to store and save. Our carriers became solidified, less ephemeral, easier to archive and obsessively collect our infatuations. We gave each other water in cups with thick sides so that it would feel good to our drinking mouths. We changed the vessel and it became increasingly specific, bestowed with peculiar tasks, valued for its narrow openings.
We adorned our containers with images: epic myths, achievements, “World’s Best Dad”. We trap things we cannot fully understand, like god and ourselves; like our stories and water. We give shape to the shapeless. We hold on to what sustains us.
Gildar Gallery is pleased to present No Empty Vessels, a group exhibition showcasing contemporary engagements with an ancient form. Each of the twelve artists featured in this exhibition explores how the vessel continues to operate as a holder of not only physical goods, but of cultural meaning in a human world both ever changing and consistent in its need to contain.
