Continuing through March 1, 2026
“Connected” is a group exhibition featuring the work of twenty-five members of the Pacific Rim Sculptors. It adds up to a celebration of uncanny juxtapositions through otherwise disconnected subjects and materials. This premise resonates with the PRS’s origin story, and encapsulates the agenda of the show, to stir a dialogue by gathering a broad range of sculptural practices under one umbrella so that we are free to form our own connections.
Moto Ohtake’s kinetic, wall-mounted sculpture, “Three Loops, Triple Pendulum” is comprised of three interlocking, stainless steel circles and spindles. The energy arises in the whole when one part begins to swing and thereby influence the appearance of the whole.
The Group started in the mid-1980s when six Bay Area sculptors — John Fick, Don Rich, Chuck Splady, Luigi Testa, Gale Wagner, and Greg Wescott — shared an informal meal. Although their individual work engages disparate aesthetics, a shared interest in metalsmithing, three-dimensional forms, and community engagement yielded a meaningful discourse that would support them for years. In 2016, the much-expanded, member-based group took the name, Pacific Rim Sculptors, and achieved non-profit status, becoming a chapter of the International Sculpture Center.
Distinct dialogues build in certain passages of the exhibition. In one corner, found materials mimic clothing. Jayne Tucker’s “My Little Ballerina” is an ornate Swan Lake-like (and wearable) ballet dress comprised of used tea bags. Lynn Dau’s “Transitional Wear — From Day to Night” is a surreal, hanging dress made from Baby Bottle nipples that reflects on maternal demands that require both parental and social readiness. The aging yellow hue of the nipples perhaps goes one step farther to recall how such gendered practices can leave a residual stamp on a child’s habit’s long after infancy.
Keith Millar’s “Permanently Pressed” repurposes a recycled steel drum to become a flattened, short-sleeve, button-up shirt with a compass in the front pocket. The inside collar of the shirt even bears a label, yet this item is utterly unwearable. It is an interesting, gendered counterpoint by virtue of its rigidity.
Other individual works exemplify the premise of surprising connections. Cheryl Coon’s use of zip ties, for example, creates the illusion of organic, sea-like or skeletal forms with unlikely and toxic materials. “Ray Skeleton” is a delicate, feather-like arrangement of white zip ties that stand out against the gray wall. The organic-looking form produced by unnatural (or plastic) materials calls to our attention how we differentiate the aesthetic categories of natural and unnatural, which here do not function as opposites. The work simultaneously calls to mind the ubiquitous and destructive dangers posed by so much microplastic being all but fully integrated in the world’s oceans and the bodies of living organisms.
Biagio Scarpello’s suite of three works juxtaposes another set of unlikely materials. The resulting composition conveys tensions inheret to its composition of materials. Iron hooks or pulleys hang with clear glass sculptures similarly play with the stress of fragility and weight. Among the three, “Implied Function” is comprised of a heavy, rust-rich, and vintage-looking industrial hook that is mounted to the wall with a clear plastic chicken breast hanging from its tip, evoking a mass of gelatin.
Lynne Todaro’s works exemplify yet another distinct strategy of juxtaposition. In “Loaves and Fishes” symbolic significance and material play off one another for a surreal effect that disrupts one’s anticipated expectation of scale. Working from a central bread mold for eight fish, arranged tail to nose, four pieces of cast iron bread are fused to the mold’s top and bottom sides. Two ridged metal additions sit on either long side of this assemblage-like arms. One, draped with a fork, the other a large feather keychain bobble that recalls a fishing fly. The Frankensteined object evokes both a human torso and a communal meal, raising associations about what aspects were found materials, what the artist produced — and where we locate the source and outlet of individual inspiration.
Given that the show presents work exclusively from PRS members, it’s not surprising that the exhibition itself feels like a mutual support group. Important value comes out of that yearning, though tribalism of any sort too easily becomes a tool forcing conformity in the wrong hands. Here it is in the right hands. The stakes of “Connected” propose independently motivated aesthetic investigations under an unwieldy range of sculpture. It is therefore a survey of talent as artists play with spatial concerns, often bringing metaphor into three-dimensional space. And, in keeping with the spirit of the original group, “Connected” celebrates a discursive community rather than privileging a more traditionally curated exhibition that distills a single thesis or point of view. Rather each work is a unique guest within the exhibition’s communal discourse.
