the wondrous work of magic. Written in chalk by the artist's six year old son, the phrase “AИ EИLARGED HEART” (complete with backwards Ns) from the exhibition's title piece points to an almost “fairy tale ending” — that the participants involved had their hearts enlarged through their loving concern. If such an ending (which is not, in fact, an ending at all) seems naïve, it is naïve with a backwards “n,” pierced as it is by the sometimes unpolished, sometimes charming, and always unpredictable vicissitudes of reality.
The lenticular prints of “preschool” that toggle from one image to another as you alter the angle of viewing seem to enact a kitschy, Cracker-Jack-prize-like magic of their own: now you see it, now you don’t. Now the bed is made, now it is covered in clothes. Yet the way Erika embeds temporality into the photographs to signal seasonal change, the shifting of sunlight, or the entropy of familial domesticity makes us consider the landscape and architecture of the everyday with a quietly serious, almost lyrical pathos. Erika is an artist of many talents who, like an expert conjuror, effortlessly calls upon the resources of a myriad of media — photography, video, sculpture, textile — and as you will see throughout these flickering pages, she fluidly assumes a dazzling array of roles — from playful personae like Miss Fancy Pants or eXtra Spice to artist as mother and artist as daughter. Now you see her, now you don't. Now you see her again.
30x30" plexi mounted C-print, edition of 5, from the exhibition, A Little Bird Told Me.