The drawings are created through a congestion of obsessive graphite lines on unbleached paper. In Knot Woman (reclining) a cubic labyrinth cuts into itself, circling around and forming angles impossible in life. Yet the illusion has an unexpected weight, a heaviness emphasized by the figure resting on what appears to be a sculpture plinth. It is an optic game, which Peri continually performs, in this case adding an elusive clue: the tiny inscription on the pedestal, “vision remembered forever".
Peri’s paintings are skewed mappings of an unknown atmosphere where spheres and bolts or paths of light somehow reflect through the surface of the black or silver paint and collide on multiple planes creating a geometric fragility. The contradiction between how things are explained and how they are seen continually holds Peri’s attention. In looking at his paintings, our eyes search for a point of understanding, a horizon line or perspective that grounds and compounds their unstable cartographic atmosphere.
The three sculptures in the show are engineered replicas in steel of precariously balanced assemblages, originally composed using objects from Peri's home such as rolls of masking tape, cassette boxes, chess sets, calculators. The rolls of tape represent heads and breasts in the sculpture and also function as stencils in both the drawings and the paintings. One of Peri’s favorite quotations is from Tristan Tzara's 1918 Dada Manifesto "The new painter creates a world whose elements are also its means."
Born in 1971 in London, England, Peri’s solo exhibitions include; ARTNOW at the Tate Britain and “Country 10” at the Kunsthalle Basel in Switzerland.
Want to see what 24 hours of creative awesomeness look like? Click here.
This news message is supported by The Creative Finder, an online platform for photographers, illustrators, designers, and art directors to promote their portfolios towards new clients and collaborators. Creatives who wish to sign up for an account can save 10% off annual fees with promo code 'designtaxi'.
