In the last seconds, it is as if everyone leaped off the mount, hold hands.The end approaches like approaching ground. Like honey is the sleep of just. (Orthros), 2019 Fiberglass, aqua resin, polyurethane, concrete, plaster, MDF, polycarbonate 64 × 39 × 74 inches, Deli Gallery
Originally printed in Issue 20 Text by Claire Milbrath
As the planet turns, light from a distant star dawns on a desert-like wasteland. Wiping the particles from my polycarbonate visor, I make out eerie figures in the distance, embalmed in dust, standing like eroded statues. As a visitor to this now calm scene, I cannot escape the feeling that something terrible has happened here, long ago. Etchings depict a violent end, volcanic eruption. I check my radio, white noise, no signs of life. Whatever was living here is now obsolete; something monstrous is now at rest.
Cole Lu’s work is haunting, cinematic, and like all great pieces of science fiction, says more about our present than it does about the fantasy world in which it takesplace. Cole’s last show at Deli Gallery, “Dust Enforcer,” addresses themes of stigmatization, quarantine, and “othering” through the presentation of mythical monsters. The sculptures and reliefs are meant to be the result of a violent volcanic eruption, preserved forever in their fossilized form. Cole’s background in demonology and Greek mythology informs the work, which are said to have been created in collaboration with Pazuzu, a four-winged demon, a dust enforcer sent to scavenge to Earth.
In the last seconds, it is as if everyone leaped off the mount, hold hands.The end approaches like approaching ground. Like honey is the sleep of just. (Orthros), 2019 Fiberglass, aqua resin, polyurethane, concrete, plaster, MDF, polycarbonate 64 × 39 × 74 inches, Deli Gallery
Thus, on any day, at any hour of any day, the stretch of sky left me wild and breathless. If the world ends now we are free, not a bee moved up from your spine inside. (Geryon), 2019, Fiberglass, aqua resin 16 × 33 × 18 inches, Deli Gallery
In “Dust Enforcer,” we discover Geryon, a fearsome monster in exile, and his two- headed guard dog Orthos, in quarantine, after Heracles has killed them. Coleexamines the myth of Geryon and his pet, presenting them as quasi-relics. Cole’s labour-intensive practice functions as a way for the artist to care for these mythological creatures, as well as mark Cole’s growth since recovering from a major illness and completing the green card approval process. Cole’s personal narrative of illness and alienation informs the artist’s thematic choices; Cole consistently returns to the monstrous (another word for “infected”) to comment on society’s treatment of disability and queerness. The artist’s monster is symbolic for the stigmas surrounding physical health, sexual orientation, and immigration. A monster is a person, a non- human, reduced to a thing or label.
The dog in quarantine provokes thoughts of “illegal aliens” carrying “foreign bacteria.” As viewers observing the dusty remains of these exiled monsters, we’re compelled to empathize with them. The feeling is similar to visiting a memorial museum, a visual reminder of human cruelty. Cole’s sculptural work stirs a feeling of sympathy and regret. Previously focused on the story of The Beauty and the Beast, Cole’s ode to Geryon marks an exciting augmentation in the artist’s practice in terms of material, scale, and execution.
Supposed old old age might show grow old to show what it meant the soul is made of wind instead of warm red liquid (Crossing River Styx), 2019, Cold cast bronze Overall: 30 × 63 × 1 inches (76.20 × 160.02 × 2.54 cm)
you said it’s just a glance behind, swallowing grunt, the heap an ark afloat in short-breathed staircase (Time Machine Modulus), 2018 Amprobe recorder, lumber, metal, birch, helmet, binoculars, lightbox, transparent sheet, blind embossment, 35 x 24 x 38 in, 77 Mulberry
Cole Lu’s Future Past
In the last seconds, it is as if everyone leaped off the mount, hold hands.The end approaches like approaching ground. Like honey is the sleep of just. (Orthros), 2019 Fiberglass, aqua resin, polyurethane, concrete, plaster, MDF, polycarbonate 64 × 39 × 74 inches, Deli Gallery
Originally printed in Issue 20
Text by Claire Milbrath
As the planet turns, light from a distant star dawns on a desert-like wasteland. Wiping the particles from my polycarbonate visor, I make out eerie figures in the distance, embalmed in dust, standing like eroded statues. As a visitor to this now calm scene, I cannot escape the feeling that something terrible has happened here, long ago. Etchings depict a violent end, volcanic eruption. I check my radio, white noise, no signs of life. Whatever was living here is now obsolete; something monstrous is now at rest.
Cole Lu’s work is haunting, cinematic, and like all great pieces of science fiction, says more about our present than it does about the fantasy world in which it takes place. Cole’s last show at Deli Gallery, “Dust Enforcer,” addresses themes of stigmatization, quarantine, and “othering” through the presentation of mythical monsters. The sculptures and reliefs are meant to be the result of a violent volcanic eruption, preserved forever in their fossilized form. Cole’s background in demonology and Greek mythology informs the work, which are said to have been created in collaboration with Pazuzu, a four-winged demon, a dust enforcer sent to scavenge to Earth.
In the last seconds, it is as if everyone leaped off the mount, hold hands.The end approaches like approaching ground. Like honey is the sleep of just. (Orthros), 2019 Fiberglass, aqua resin, polyurethane, concrete, plaster, MDF, polycarbonate 64 × 39 × 74 inches, Deli Gallery
Thus, on any day, at any hour of any day, the stretch of sky left me wild and breathless. If the world ends now we are free, not a bee moved up from your spine inside. (Geryon), 2019, Fiberglass, aqua resin 16 × 33 × 18 inches, Deli Gallery
In “Dust Enforcer,” we discover Geryon, a fearsome monster in exile, and his two- headed guard dog Orthos, in quarantine, after Heracles has killed them. Cole examines the myth of Geryon and his pet, presenting them as quasi-relics. Cole’s labour-intensive practice functions as a way for the artist to care for these mythological creatures, as well as mark Cole’s growth since recovering from a major illness and completing the green card approval process. Cole’s personal narrative of illness and alienation informs the artist’s thematic choices; Cole consistently returns to the monstrous (another word for “infected”) to comment on society’s treatment of disability and queerness. The artist’s monster is symbolic for the stigmas surrounding physical health, sexual orientation, and immigration. A monster is a person, a non- human, reduced to a thing or label.
The dog in quarantine provokes thoughts of “illegal aliens” carrying “foreign bacteria.” As viewers observing the dusty remains of these exiled monsters, we’re compelled to empathize with them. The feeling is similar to visiting a memorial museum, a visual reminder of human cruelty. Cole’s sculptural work stirs a feeling of sympathy and regret. Previously focused on the story of The Beauty and the Beast, Cole’s ode to Geryon marks an exciting augmentation in the artist’s practice in terms of material, scale, and execution.
Supposed old old age might show grow old to show what it meant the soul is made of wind instead of warm red liquid (Crossing River Styx), 2019, Cold cast bronze Overall: 30 × 63 × 1 inches (76.20 × 160.02 × 2.54 cm)
you said it’s just a glance behind, swallowing grunt, the heap an ark afloat in short-breathed staircase (Time Machine Modulus), 2018 Amprobe recorder, lumber, metal, birch, helmet, binoculars, lightbox, transparent sheet, blind embossment, 35 x 24 x 38 in, 77 Mulberry
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