The current show is too interesting to miss. For it Wales artists Heather & Ivan Morison present a show that includes a tree like sculpture made out of mud from Roenisch's basement; a hole in the hardwood floor so one can see artist-dug pit in said basement; a wood-burning stove in full operation; prints of isolationist-feeling desert RV's with a threatening golden rock floating in the sky; a large mylar kite reminiscent of both Edison Alexander Graham Bell and Buckminster Fuller, and a film in the basement that riffs on that Desert RV/floating fool's gold theme with psychedelic guitar. It's ascetic and it's good. Get thee to the woodlot!
Leah Sandals, Unedit My Heart, 2008

One thing about the show that I didn't anticipate is the inordinate amount of scrutiny, wonder, horror, glee, introspection, disbelief and general awe that has been given over to....the hole. I mean beyond the realization that the tower was born of it - once that registers people still have remained very fixated on the hole - the idea of it, your audacity, the nearness to death and graves that some people read into it, while others compare it to Gober's hole or Urs Fischer's, while others just are fascinated in a totally art-free way about what they see as a very blunt, emphatic breach in the order of things. Some have said "this makes the building and the show feel as though both were floating" while others have said that it is the "psychological crux of the show, the meatiest part". People really seem to have to deal with it before they can properly process the rest of the back gallery (and then forces a reappraisal of the front as they complete the circle). Others don't believe it's a real hole, or that the water's real etc.
Anyway more later. Hard to type on the blackberry...
Clint Roenisch, Clint Roenisch Gallery, 2008

A delightful confusion can be experienced at Clint Roenisch Gallery. Here Heather & Ivan Morison have dug deep into the recesses of crawlspaces and back alleys to create an assemblage of strange seasonal totems (an abject Christmas tree in the window) and mystical plans for escape. They are the type of artists who carry their world around with them, inhabiting a space, transforming it for their eccentric ends. Its a bit like a theme park for interstellar travel-obsessed survivalists. Or props from a J. G. Ballard novel.
Terence Dick, Akimbo, 2008

The Bad Years (How to Survive)
2008

Clint Roenisch Gallery, Toronto, Canada