That Hubbs projects onto external objects distills these ideas further, identifying with them as they are wilting, drying, or stubbornly existing. Some are past their expiration date and not long for this world. Each object she depicts retains its own mood in a string of chronicled encounters. Her photograph of a rose exists in staccato against her clay sculpture of breasts and phalluses, against the cave that offers its hole, against the weary brown paper bags, replete with grease stains on the kitchen floor. These amount to something similar to her mirror pieces, aside from chronicling, in which there’s a bathetic confrontation with herself and the conditions of being in her forties, of being at a certain place in life. She negotiates this subjective and objective experience, of seeing herself through idea-experiments, only to return to forms, all forms, in all of their frailties. We engage with this vulnerability because it is resonant and compelling, but also for the solidarity in knowing that her photographs account for something familiar in trying to recognize one’s desires, no matter how debasing, against conditions that repel them.
- Max Maslansky
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