Laser-etched Corian by Sandra Fiedorek, “Sandra Fiedorek + Naomi Schlinke,” at D Berman Gallery, through May 22
I can’t tell you exactly what Sandra Fiedorek’s “Portraits” depict; they’re not narrative. But they did lead me through a curious string of personal mental narratives as I took them in. Her “Portraits” offer only suggestions as to what referents a viewer could match them up with, leaving the viewer with the task of choosing which interpretation – or string of interpretations – fits best.
At first I applied an open-and-shut literal interpretation to these “Portraits” – as planets. They’re imprecise circles, glowing from within their box frames with a cold and familiar light, their surfaces pocked in chaotic moonlike braille. But then, why “portraits”? I looked again. Why couldn’t these be cells? Portraits on a cellular level, of human tissue taken from various subjects. Neat idea, I thought – I’m satisfied. But with sustained gazing, the pieces began to take on a more sterile, scientific quality. They fluoresce with icy light; the surfaces around their circles are smooth, neutral, lablike. Perhaps they’re portraits of bacteria, I thought, or even of the microscopic “faces” of diseases? The gouges and burn-puddles of the circles’ interiors seemed then to vaguely suggest the violence of illness. Is that what these pieces are about?
Maybe. But it doesn’t really matter what I think. Every viewer is going to take her or his own path through Fiedorek’s “Portraits,” and the path is part of their unsettling beauty. Hopefully you’ll get the chance to interpret them yourself between now and May 22, when the show (shared with Naomi Schlinke) comes down.
This article appears in May 7 • 2004.