Amy Ralston, sculptor
images of work
My work reflects a diversity of ideas and processes. The variety of my past endeavors (school for architecture, jobs in software development, an enduring love of books) has informed both my content and my approach. Exposure to different systems of thought and methods of making helps me to look beyond the perceived limitations of otherwise ordinary materials.
While working on a piece, I often think of it as my 'experiment' - an experiment with materials, ideas, means of communication. The experience that the viewer has when encountering the object completes the piece. I hope the work is open enough to permit many and varied interpretations.
When I look at my own pieces, the forms at times seem to be like skins that have been shed and left behind, inflecting towards something no longer here; their delicate presence suggests an absence of more solid matter which can only be imagined. At times I view these forms as characters in a play, written in a language I don't completely understand. I infer the characters' relationships by reading the 'body language', seeing how they lean on each other or stand apart.
My more recent work, although heavier and more grounded, is still pre-occupied with inflected, organic forms. These pieces gesture towards a larger whole; they seem like samples from a universe with its own logic. They encourage shifts in perspective: are these objects seen through a microscope - or a telescope? Does this change as the piece is viewed over time?
While working on a piece, I often think of it as my 'experiment' - an experiment with materials, ideas, means of communication. The experience that the viewer has when encountering the object completes the piece. I hope the work is open enough to permit many and varied interpretations.
When I look at my own pieces, the forms at times seem to be like skins that have been shed and left behind, inflecting towards something no longer here; their delicate presence suggests an absence of more solid matter which can only be imagined. At times I view these forms as characters in a play, written in a language I don't completely understand. I infer the characters' relationships by reading the 'body language', seeing how they lean on each other or stand apart.
My more recent work, although heavier and more grounded, is still pre-occupied with inflected, organic forms. These pieces gesture towards a larger whole; they seem like samples from a universe with its own logic. They encourage shifts in perspective: are these objects seen through a microscope - or a telescope? Does this change as the piece is viewed over time?
