Although currently a student of Fine Art at the National College of Art and Design (NCAD), Ruth Cassidy’s latest exhibition, Flora and Me, is far from the work of an amateur. Her “pen and ink story” of the self is one of the rawest instances of beauty, strength and integrity that I have ever had the pleasure of experiencing.
The Copper House Gallery works as the perfect binder for her story, which is composed of eighteen works. The impressionable house creates an ambience for the exhibition which completely enthrals the senses. The delicate lighting, coupled with the soft, floral aromas which waft around the room completely envelop attendees into the predominantly botanical works. So much so, that re-emerging back out into the dewy, autumnal sun on Synge Street may come as a bit of a shock to the senses.
As mentioned, the pieces are all interlinked with a resonant floral theme, which remains a fixed sentiment, but the composition of the subject matter itself is entirely interchangeable. The flowers become physical embodiments of emotion. The subjects adopt anthropomorphic characteristics, lounging in water or dancing in a burst of air. One collection of flowers is presented as trapped in a vase, smothered by glass. The eclectic darts of rhythm seize you, demanding attention and consistently drawing the eye to something that may have been missed upon first glance.
A personal favourite was The Island. A single fuchsia lies on a thin white branch. The pink petals dangle, feather light and seemingly weightless. Purple petals divide the canvas like a horizon and these petals become the anchor of the composition. The elongation of the stamens to the immediate left focuses the eye allowing the viewer to take in the piece as a whole, and the single pink fuchsia transfigures into a variety of symbols which could represent anything the mind could imagine. Perhaps the most relatable, the resting fuchsia strongly resembles a reclining woman. The semblance drawn, the delicacy of the movements and the freshness of the colour in this particular piece solidifies the idea of humanity being very delicate.
Another particular treasure was Lace Leaf, much larger in scale than would usually be my own preference. Lace Leaf is a sumptuous dance of ink and paper. A massive leafy blue flower, seeping off to all corners of the canvas with no regard for the boundaries of it’s frame, engages in a sultry dialogue with the exquisite paper lace. The ink and lace commit to a fusion of themselves. Their survival and impact is entirely dependant on one another. The paint would lack substance without the lace, and the paper lace itself would fall invisible were it not for the paint. They are body and soul, and the dance between the two is fraught with a hurried intensity. The resulting emotion of the composition, grace and the subject matter, seems paradoxical. The notion that such delicate flowers could conceive such ferocious tangibility seems fortuitous. Flowers cannot dance! But, upon reflection, maybe the assumption that they could not seems plainly rigid.
A truly lovely story with a happy ending, Flora and Me is the perfect way to spend an October evening.
The exhibition is running in the Copper House Gallery until October 28th.
