Lung

Ean White has transformed Brighton’s Cynthia von Beuhler [sic] Gallery into another kind of mindscape, one in which rational, linear thought takes over one gallery and intuitive, subconscious thinking another. In between is an empty, darkened room; permeating all the spaces is a sense of doomed inevitability.

Taut wires, emitting an ever-so-slight high-pitched hum, cut diagonally across the larger gallery. In some instances, they pull thin latex sheets, looking like flayed skins, almost to their breaking point. In other cases skeins of latex hang about the room, looped over the wire in inert states of exhaustion. The wall covering of Asphalt canvas adds an acrid smell, enhancing the space’s nightmarish, primordial effect. Full of menace, tenderness and futility, the work evokes a terrifying drama pervaded by fear and insecurity.

The other space is equally haunting. Walking down a narrow corridor, lined with white gravel, the sound of your steps is amplified. The path leads to what at first looks like an abstract plinth, but which, instead, turns out to be an ant farm and the still faint crunching noise that continues after you stop walking eerily turns out to be that of the smaller, trapped beings.


–Mary Sherman, Art New England, June/July 2001