Amelia Rina

From this Author

Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows

The very first thing you see when visiting Stefan Stagmeister’s “The Happy Show” at MOCA’s Pacific Design Center is wall text boldly declaring: “THIS EXHIBITION WILL NOT MAKE YOU HAPPIER.” While the text may seem like a cheeky and sarcastic pre-summarization of the content, Stagmeister sets the stage for his internal conflicts.  The information presented on the walls ranges from dry, yet poignant data, to[…..]

Nature is Not Human Hearted

In Art, I am generally not a fan of beautiful landscapes. That is not to say that I do not appreciate the inherent splendor of nature, it just always seems too picturesque and subsequently too easy.  The source of my aversion is popular visual culture’s inundation of images showing over-saturated suns rising or setting, paths and docks receding into the distance, and natural monuments impressing[…..]

The Right Stuff: Amir H. Fallah at Gallery Wendi Norris

In our predominantly consumerist society, it is increasingly difficult to disconnect ourselves from our belongings. Barbara Kruger summarized the contemporary Cartesian dualism when she created her 1987 piece, “I Shop Therefore I am.” The more we define ourselves through our endlessly multiplying clutter, the harder it is to relate to others who don’t share our specific collection of objects onto which we project meaning and[…..]

New Year’s Day Swimmers

The first time I saw New Year’s Day Swimmers, the current exhibition at Altman Siegel Gallery in San Francisco, I didn’t mean to. I intended to pop into the gallery to drop something off, but as soon as I crossed the threshold I was completely captivated by the works and forgot everything else I was supposed to accomplish by my visit. Floating through the gallery,[…..]

On Seeing and Nothingness

A few years ago, I found myself wondering: what is the essence of existence? After some thinking, I came to the conclusion that the simplest evidence of existence is interaction. Even at an infinitesimal level, if something doesn’t interact with something else, there is no way to prove it exists. That being said, there are different ways to measure interactions, both direct and indirect. For[…..]

The Democracy of Small Things: William Eggleston at RoseGallery

I will never forget the first time I saw a photograph by William Eggleston. It was the Los Alamos exhibition at the SFMoMA; I was sixteen, a time when the only thing I could do to mask the uncertainty I felt about the world was with an all too common teenage bravado. But as I walked through the rooms, every ounce of the know-it-all in[…..]

What else can I be but what I am?: Mutables at Eli Ridgway Gallery

SuttonBeresCuller, Sears Portraits, Ongoing.

Imagine if we never had to define ourselves. Imagine if we could exist suspended in a sort of identity probability cloud in which we were only more or less likely to be one thing than another. Or better yet if we could be in two conflicting states at once. We may never know the luxury of being both particle and wave, but we can certainly[…..]