The dual role of curator and artist is a strange experience, one that requires constant shifting back and forth between acts of creation and interpretation. This exhibition, rooted in the transitional vocabulary of construction sites and materials, aligns surprisingly well with this bifocal perspective. Presented in a space currently undergoing renovation, Lumber: The Allure of Construction offers a conversation about what construction, both artistic and architectural, says about our world.

Art-making has always been an evolutionary process, akin to the stages of construction. Just as one wouldn't judge a building by its understructure alone, the works in Lumber ask viewers to consider the intrinsic aesthetic and philosophical complexities of materials and spaces often overlooked or deemed "unfinished." The materials chosen—right down to the fasteners and joinery techniques—stand untreated. No veneers, no elaborate finishes, just the essence of utility translated into form. The site of the exhibition, also in a state of renovation, adds another layer to the theme.

My interest in OSB (Oriented Strand Board) plywood is a product of its distinctive patterning, ubiquity in construction, and dual utility in both sculpture and algorithmic painting. These wood panels, far from being mere construction material, transform into canvases where mathematical models take shape. Algorithms are used to delineate the geometries hidden within the distinctive patterns of the compressed wood chips. For Lumber this approach takes a 3D turn as these paintings fold out from their flat surfaces, reminiscent of shipping crates and wall enclosures, adding a palpable dimensionality to the visual.

Carrie Stubbs has spent a quarter of a century diving deep into the geometries of circles, spheres, and light. By incorporating neon and fluorescent tubes, her sculptures not only resonate with the Minimalist tradition but also offer a dialogue with Light and Space artists like Robert Irwin and Dan Graham. Her works are a conversation between form and illumination, adding yet another texture to our understanding of construction materials.

Mario Ego-Aguirre's works exist in a liminal space between art and utility. His custom toolbox, which holds the very implements used to construct this exhibition, collapses the boundary between the artwork and the act of creation. In an art world often obsessed with the purely conceptual, Ego-Aguirre reminds us that function doesn't devalue form; rather, it enriches it.

More broadly, the works in Lumber can be seen as a microcosm of a larger ideological tug-of-war between Modernism and Postmodernism. However, rather than taking sides, this exhibition looks for its own measure of reconciliation. Each artwork, in different ways, brings together the purism of Modernist thought and the complexity and multiplicity of Postmodernism. Here, form doesn't merely follow function, nor does a myriad of histories overwhelm the essence of form; they stand side by side, conversing and enriching one another.

Lumber resonates with several art historical dialogues, from the algorithmic experiments of Sol Lewitt and Dorothea Rockburne to the functional carpentry practices of Tom Sachs and Van Neistat, Most centrally though, the exhibition pays homage to artists like Charlotte Posenenska, who focused on modularity and reconfigurability of industrial materials and an emphasis on process over a single finalized form. 

As you walk through Lumber I invite you to reflect on how these artworks aren't just objects but representations of ideas and processes. Consider how the materials, unrefined and unadorned, are simultaneously mediums and messages, and how the visible tools and methods of construction become part of the artwork itself. I think of Lumber as a blueprint that challenges us to rethink the lines between utility and aesthetics, purity and context. And I invite you, the audience, to find the eloquence in the utilitarian and to question the boundaries between the finished and the indefinite.