Lynn Aldrich
[1][2][3][4] Her work can range from what art writers describe as "slyly Minimalist meditations" on color, light and space[5] to whimsical "Home Depot Pop"[3] that reveals and critiques the excesses—visual, formal and material—of unbridled consumption.
[31] Aldrich incorporates a wide range of reference points in her work: the excess and spectacle of consumer culture and life in Los Angeles, art and literary influences, natural and celestial phenomena, and Christian longing for revelation and transcendence.
[19][32][33][34][23] Curator Stephen Nowlin wrote that Aldrich's "heterogeneous works fuse and defuse Duchamp, pop, and minimalist influences, at once both respectfully and irreverently, measuring the dimensions of contemporary existence by their use of a consumer's palette.
[1][36][11][16] Writers also emphasize Aldrich's playing of artistic influences (including the Light and Space movement) off of feminist strategies that inject everyday and domestic objects and notions into fine art.
[42] Meshing high-cultural minimalist form with the symbolism of mass-produced objects, works such as Subdivision (1990) or Shelf Life (1992) offered open-ended commentary on suburban domesticity, bourgeois humanism, and Modernist artistic practice.
[46] The nested, resin-starched t-shirts of Shell Collection (1993–4) referenced the life cycle and natural forms such as tree rings, organic sheddings, or chrysalises; ARTnews's Suzanne Muchnic described such works as "unusual think pieces" whose light touch, wry humor, and ephemerality made their "ideas all the more memorable because they seem weightless.
[40][9][47] More whimsical, busier in its color, spatial and textural range, this work pushed further against minimalist restrictions concerning narrative and referential content, connecting more strongly to bodily and connotative associations[6][2][9][8] and yielding more overtly philosophical and theological themes involving the earth and cosmos, society, and perception.
[54][19][7] Silver Lining (2009) is a large array of shiny metal downspouts suspended at varying heights from above, their open insides painted shades of blue suggesting rain streaks, organ pipes, and the sacramental.
Eliot); Constellation) likewise transform the mundane—cheap, partially filled lampshades affixed top-side to walls with subtly painted interiors—into celestial bowls of color and light[2][39][40][52] that Susan Kandel said suggest "that revelation is available even, or maybe especially, at the 99-cent store.
