On the Cover:
Marc Vilanova, Coreto (detail), 2021. Recycled plastic, digital LED, steel, Plexiglas, neon lights, bulbs, DMX motor, ventilators, smoke machine, and custom software, 10 x 10 x 5 meters. Photo: Anna Benet
Editor’s Letter:
Lines and thresholds of various forms occupy the minds of the artists featured in this issue. Take Marc Vilanova, who describes his extraordinary sound and light work Limen (which is a kind of threshold) as taking “a linear form in space, dividing it into two—the visible and the invisible, the audible and the inaudible, what we can perceive and what goes beyond.” For Monika Grzymala, the line constitutes the fundamental building block of her practice, which often entails creating linear drawings in space using tape. Linda Sormin says of her chaotic, spindly, and beautiful ceramic sculptures, “The rhythmic, repetitive touch I use with clay generates three-dimensional, linear drawings in space. Intricate clay networks serve as interstitial tissue between images and ideas.” The graphic linearity of Indriķis Ģelzis’s wall-mounted and freestanding sculptures are influenced by city maps and building plans, among other things. “At the core of my practice,” he says, “there’s a tension between dualities. Linear versus spatial, system versus fragment, information versus experience.” Lines define and demarcate, set boundaries but also volumetric contours. And, rather than focusing on line per se, Ivana Bašić’s bulbous, organic-seeming works exist at the threshold where form dissolves into formlessness. These artists, I hope you’ll agree, all set the bar high, and easily pass over that line into the highest levels of sculptural pleasure. —Daniel Kunitz, Editor-in-Chief
