Oil Paint, Glass, Framed Glass, Mirror
17″ x 18″
2021
This piece explores the delicate balance between intention and the products of our labor, contrasting mindful creation with forced, impersonal work. The hands of a man carefully bending a sprig of sage reflect a moment of quiet harmony, where creation is rooted in care and respect for the natural world. This act of gentle, purposeful creation stands in stark contrast to the man wielding the harsh orange tool, whose task is to construct an uninspired, ugly building driven by the pressures of monetary gain. The disconnect between these two forms of labor is emphasized by the contrasting hues: the vibrant blue sky above, full of natural beauty, juxtaposed with the orange tool, a symbol of utilitarian work devoid of meaning. To further complicate this narrative, I’ve depicted a price tag on the painting itself, prompting me to reflect on my own place within this cycle of creation and commerce. As I have through this work, I invite the viewer to reflect on the cost of their own contributions, urging a reconsideration of how we create and what legacy we choose to leave—one that is meaningful, not just priced to sell.
On a building’s rooftop, the workers labor under the weight of an arduous task. The once unburdened, vibrant blue sky is now overshadowed by dark clouds, reflecting the greed that taints the work they are forced to do. The building they are constructing is painted the most unsightly color, an ugly symbol of their struggle, one that is mirrored in the multitude of buildings that surround them. Each stand as silent reminders of the seemingly endless cycle of labor and disillusionment they are trapped in.
Consumed by the pressure of the task at hand, the workers are unaware of where the path the power lines stretching up behind them leads to. They don’t look up to follow these lines into the bright pockets of sky between the clouds. The task at hand distracts them from considering a time when the sky was clear, and what we worked towards was meaningful. The streetlight behind them, unlit, quietly mirrors their disconnect. It waits for them to rediscover what is inherently in them. But it remains dark, just like the path they don’t see.
The tension here lies in the unacknowledged possibility. If they could only break free from the burden, they might find a way back to the beauty that was once their guiding force. But for now, they are caught in the ugliness of their labor, building a structure they despise but must finish.
Rachael Kucken 