In the Painting Department at LSAD, Rachel Marum's sculptural arrangements momentarily catch the space. In writing about her work, the attempt to make one word stay put after another seems at odds with the subtle interruptions and barely-there compositions which hint at imminent dispersal, particularly in Manipulated Hangings. This is a fleeting opportunity to dwell on the tiny imperfections of Minimal Shapes: ambient light reveals creases on bare linen stretched over frames; small sticky squares (the residue of adhesive tape) and discolouration caused by sunlight outline the pictures that once were there and now are gone. The Shapes sit expectantly on a shelf, leaning casually against the wall, as though resting between places.
These gentle observations are punctuated by the bold, glossy stripes of Formed Verses Foundpainted onto the jaded surface of ordinary objects. Here, painting has as much to do with peeling away as applying pigment. Ideas slide between the layers somehow, and settle, congealed, in the memory. The placement of the Verses creates particular rhythm throughout, like new interpretations of an old song. Something smooth and slow. The Untitled groupings and Disassembly Lines gather in the breaks or gaps - sometimes on the wall, sometimes on the floor - resisting completion. Marum’s consideration of the space is quiet and intelligent, “one should be light like a bird,” as Paul Valéry wrote, “and not like a feather.”