Jacob Jackmauh, Caitlin McCann & Benjamin Stallings
As for me, I’m just passing through this planet
March 8 - April 14, 2024
Irina Jasnowski Pascual
Wipers
September 15 - October 29, 2023
Coco Klockner
honesty
July 8 - August 6, 2023
Morgan Canavan, Ben Estes, Marisa Takal
More Coming Back & More Returning
May 5 - June 11, 2023
Sylvie Hayes-Wallace
Center of the Universe
August 5 - September 18, 2022
Amanda Horowitz
Bad Water, True West or Between Myself the Crickets and the Coyote
performed by Sophia Cleary and Ada Friedman
July 14 & July 15, 2022
Suzanna Zak
Coming Home to the Ice Age
opening May 13 - June 24, 2022
Strauss Bourque-LaFrance, Milano Chow, Jenni Crain,
Kristin Dickson- Okuda, Rubens Ghenov, Ann Gillen, KB Jones,
Michael Kennedy Costa, Sean Macalister, Sarah McMenimen,
J. Parker Valentine, Anna Rosen
XX Perfect Souls, curated by Natalie Smith
April 1 - May 6, 2022
Justin Chance, Cameron Cameron, Tristan Higginbotham
Serendipity Trail
February 12 - March 25, 2022
Noah Furman
Beginners
December 3, 2021 - January 25, 2022
Angélique Heidler
Piselli
October 8 - November 19, 2021
Natalie Smith
Nothing Within or Without
August 13 - September 14, 2021
Celia Lesh & Esther Sibiude
A Hole Filled With Noise, curated by Colleen Billing
July 2 - August 2, 2021
E. Saffronia Downing
Field Dug Over
May 21- June 27, 2021
Matt Smoak
Body Without Organs
April 2 - May 2, 2021
Eleanor Conover
Learning From the Steep Slope
March 5 - March 30, 2021
★
About
Instagram
★
open by appointment
located beside
320 E. Churchwell Ave
Knoxville, Tennessee
Serendipity Trail, installation view
Serendipity Trail, installation view
Serendipity Trail, installation view
Cameron Cameron, Blood Orange Sun, 2021, resin, found butterfly wings, foam, image transfer, fish flies
Cameron Cameron, Blood Orange Sun, 2021, resin, found butterfly wings, foam, image transfer, fish flies
Justin Chance, Dinosaur, 2021-2022, quilted wet and needle felted wool, silk, cotton, dye
Cameron Cameron, Elouise’ Eye, 2021, shell, cowhide, rubber, leather
Tristan Higginbotham, Enrichment Collage 4, 2021, cotton, wood glue, milkweed pod, plastic, acorn, zip ties
Cameron Cameron, Bee Suit, 2020, found objects, netting
Cameron Cameron, Bee Suit, 2020, found objects, netting
Tristan Higginbotham, Blue Collage, 2021 , dryer lint, glue, seashells, probiscidea seed pods, carrot covered in borax, spider crab shell, milkweed pods, water chestnut seeds, sweet gum seeds, dryer sheet
Pronged Collage, 2021, dryer lint, glue, muskrat bones, probiscidea seed pods, cotton, sawdust clay, sweepings, milkweed pods, water chestnut seeds, sweet gum seeds
Tristan Higginbotham, Pronged Collage, 2021, dryer lint, glue, muskrat bones, probiscidea seed pods, cotton, sawdust clay, sweepings, milkweed pods, water chestnut seeds, sweet gum seeds
Cameron Cameron, This hasn’t happened yet--- but give it time!!! Resin, foam, image transfer, fish flies, 2021
Cameron Cameron, This hasn’t happened yet--- but give it time!!! Resin, foam, image transfer, fish flies, 2021
Cameron Cameron, Bee Suit, 2020, found objects, netting
&
Justin Chance, 35mm film color print, latex, aluminum frames
Love is a full-time job (Field Museum, Chicago IL, Workplace), 2012 – 2022
Love is a full-time job (Lincoln Park Zoo, Chicago IL, Bird Feeding Lab, 5:55pm), 2012 – 2022
Love is a full-time job (Field Museum, Chicago IL, Sue), 2012 – 2022
Love is a full-time job (Field Museum, Chicago IL, Workplace II), 2012 – 2022
Love is a full-time job (Field Museum, Chicago IL, Prehistoric Tree Display), 2012 – 2022
Love is a full-time job (Field Museum, Chicago IL, Graveyard), 2012 – 2022
Serendipity Trail
Justin Chance, Cameron Cameron, Tristan Higginbotham
February 12 - March 25, 2022
This might be a fact or a fiction: that butterflies & moths understand their sense of time through the beat of their wings. The same-but-different way that we have come to understand a minute by a hand ticking on a clock, or a second as it scrolls by on the timer of a phone. It’s 11:37am– Sitting at my desk while writing, I lean down to flutter my eyelashes against my pointer finger, butterfly kisses; my own set of wings. Each lash rustles:
Frrrr frrrrr ssss ssss sss
and I consider how many more moments there could be in a day if this constant fluttering dictated my temporal senses.
Serendipity Trail opens in the beginning of February; the start of a generation of Monarch butterflies’ migratory flight up into the southern United States where, in effort to aid population recovery, monarch enthusiasts have begun to captively rear and release the butterflies. Amateur naturalists and climate-anxiety fueled children's birthday parties with an honest adoration for the insect have doomed them; those bred in simulated outdoor conditions lose their innate sense of orientation towards the South.
It’s 2:42pm– I watch videos of butterflies attached to simulated flight machines that hope to awaken their ingrained compass, another titled “butterfly wings flapping sound” and “the SOUND of millions of monarch butterflies” hoping to phonetically spell it out for this text. But unlike the sharp ticking of a clock or the harsh buzzer of an alarm, in trying to imitate the sound under my breath almost nothing comes out. The sensation is closer to that of sand slipping through your fingers or the wind whistling through long hair than any spoken language or understanding of time.
Frrrr frrrrr ssss ssss sss
Serendipity Trail considers ideas of distance, seasonality, work, hobby, life cycles & generational history. Time that can both be intertwined with, and totally disconnected from, the sense of time of a butterfly, or a moth, or a bird, or maybe the person closest to you. In this departure from a linear, anthropocentric understanding of time, fact and fiction become as blurry as the flitter of a wing. In Tristan Higginbothams’ sculptures; found wood, seed pods, bird eggs and shells bond together using a variety of adhesives– including a lard-based suet–becoming collaged masses oriented around the practice of enrichment “by which an animals core environmental comforts and needs are provided via an echoing of and slight mimesis of nature”. Guided by the experience of looking, walking, and holding; Cameron Cameron’s images & objects call attention to “those non-domesticated creatures whose lives intersect more intimately with our own: spiders in the shower, ants at the picnic table, hornets in the corner of the porch. Insects are vital pollinators and recyclers of ecosystems, the foundation of the food web everywhere. If the whole insect world went missing, that loss of abundance could alter us irreparably”. Cameron interrogates how one’s relationships to bugs, nature and place corresponds with the love and loss of the day-to-day. Reflecting on the complicated notion of time, history, natural history stewardship and the archive; Justin Chance’s 35mm series of snapshots of public viewing and private work spaces at the Field Museum in Chicago and wet & needle felted quilt asks how different understandings of time affects value systems and legacies placed upon cultural, material and natural objects.
Justin Chance (b. 1993, New York, NY) is an artist, writer and co-founder of the Collaborative Center for Storm, Space & Seismic Research and has held solo exhibitions with Smart Objects, Los Angeles, CA and Tuesday, Richmond VA and has been included in group exhibitions with Downs & Ross, New York NY, tilling, Montreal CA, Ginny on Fredricks, London UK, Fonda, Leipzig, Germany; Housing, Miami, FL; Underground Flower at James River Park, Richmond, VA; Three Four Three Four, Brooklyn, NY; Gern en Regalia, New York, NY; Shoot the Lobster, New York, NY; Thierry Goldberg Gallery, New York, NY; Lock Up International, London, United Kingdom; NY; Institute of Contemporary Art Baltimore, Baltimore, MD; Smart Objects, Los Angeles, CA; and May 2000, Chicago, IL. Chance holds a BA in Visual & Critical Studies and BFA from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago. He lives and works in New York, NY.
Cameron Cameron (b. 1991) was raised in Texas and lives in Los Angeles, CA. She received her BFA from the University of Texas at Austin (UT) in 2014, attended Skowhegan School of Painting and Sculpture in 2017, and received her MFA from University of California, Los Angeles (UCLA) in 2018. She is a founding and contributing member to MATERIAL GIRLS. She currently teaches high school Photography at Campbell Hall School in Los Angeles.
Tristan Higginbotham (b. 1996) is a multidisciplinary artist from her Tennessee Mountain Home. Currently she maintains a studio practice in Brooklyn, NY and rehabilitates birds four days a week at the Wild Bird Fund. Tristan received her BFA from Watkins College in 2018. She participated in the NYC Audubon Governors Island residency in 2019, the Stoveworks residency in 2021, and is an advocate for Bird-Safe Glass.