Erratics, from the latin errare, to wander, go astray, err, is used to describe rocks that appear different than those native to its surroundings. The reason for their foreign appearance (and their anthropomorphizing nomenclature) is that they have traveled by ice rafts, often for thousands of miles, as a result of glacial thaw. Erratics were viewed as precious materials by prehistoric humans and crafted into tools and ritual objects. But before they were carved they were first altered by time and the environments through which they passed.

Linnéa Gad’s Erratics are clay forms shaped by their own weight as to mimic the slow softening of stones by erosion. The pieces are not inspired from specific reference material but rather from internalized forms, fragments from the past, or suggestive shapes of the future. The shaping of these clay stones act as a compressed performance of stones’ true creation, and aid in understanding earthly and temporal movements. In contemplating immeasurably large events, Gad considers the challenge of perceiving deep time from a human scale.

Gad’s prints are made using a similar reductive method. Softscapes are aquatints made by simulating wave movements with acid over the copper plate resulting in images that resemble shorelines. Her toner transfer on sand-washed silk, titled Elevated Shore, feature ebbing patterns, similar to calcium buildup or tree rings, where the toner is rubbed into the silk. These movements are superimposed over an image of Sugar Kelp, a coastal plant in the decline, drawing a new abstracted topography. Like nature’s erratics, her work is etched with the memory of its journey.

The outdoor installation, Saltliths, is comprised of a series of mineral licks provided to livestock as a means to intake essential biometal. These intricate rock formations are created solely by animal intervention. The resulting miniature landscapes become metaphors for unfathomably larger events. Through these natural agents, Linnea questions the necessity of human making.

Will Epstein’s sonic component of the show is comprised of seven sound sculptures erratically arranged in a cyclical narrative with each piece accompanied by a string of silence from which subsequent clusters emerge. The music serves as the subconscious of the physical works, opening up a dialogue between the two forms as well as igniting a third stream in the listener/viewer. Like rocks in the landscape of the psyche, the sounds reflect psychological resonances that dwell within each of us as well as those inherent in the physical objects featured in the gallery. The emotional underpinnings of memory inform all of the work in the show but the unique qualities of the sonic medium allow them to be elaborated within the musical idiom.

The composition’s sculptural intent is evident in its consideration of texture and space. Gnarled twists of sound evoke electronic imaginations of tree bark and combine with smoother plaintive gestures to create a unique and multi-limbed whole. The moods brought forth by these shifting combinations are reminiscent of strands from film soundtracks, with their inklings of horror and beauty; but here, in their dislocated forms, they are left to resemble disembodied remnants floating and reflecting through the space.

The waves of silence that follow each piece serve as further invitations into the realm of memory. As each sonic cluster retreats back into the speakers there is a sense not only of loss but also simply of change as the music’s sudden arrival and departure gives way to new mental reverberations. As the sounds recede, a space is created for the inner experience of the viewer to rise up and meet the external physical forms, birthing new beams of resonance. The silences are thus as much a part of the composition as the sounds themselves as they bring to union the three circling streams—of sculpture, music and the psyches of the viewers--wafting through the gallery’s space.