AboutAmy Woodward's work is an explosion of pattern and symbol. Her canvases are frames from which images detach themselves, sliding across the surface and off the edges, creeping down the walls and along the floor. Left behind are gaps and white shadows, holes in compositions where something is gone.
Nothing is fixed, either visually or physically with everything liable to move. Elements reorder and reappear, duplicated, enlarged or inverted. Parts briefly collect and then digress.
This animation forces our active participation in these rearrangements, making connections across works. Woodward talks of attempting to exercise our "imaginary and symbolic capacities and the potential codes for representing the unnameable." Our visual decoding causes us to fill the spaces in and between paintings, a trick of Gestalt that calls in to question how we interpret and translate what we see.
The language she uses quickly becomes familiar, we learn to read and then to write it. There is often a playful innuendo between the clean lines and smooth colour fades, something fluid and slippery.
The work is never far from excess, always on the brink of gaudy, the point is not feared but never quite reached. Colours mute and symbols shrink away to leave space for the next set of momentary connections.