The Space Between

The Space Between

I like an unexpected entrance to define an introduction

and steer a conversation without any planning whatsoever.

Pulling in alongside the jagged row of parked cars on the left (and correct!) side of the rather nondescript auto repair shop in north Denton,

 I gathered my belongings after parking, spotted the “ARTIST” placard mounted on the metal door to my right,

and stepped out of my hatchback into the sunlight.

Beyond the opening sway of the door, a steady stream of classic R & B wafted past the large storage racks, files, and orderly stacks of materials and boxes as you enter Alicia Eggert’s studio.

The central studio floor was taken up by an artwork that was fulfilling its performative role, having just arrived back from a show at the

University of Arkansas, and rhythmically inflating one side of its words in ALL CAPS, “NOW” in black and “THEN” in white (with contrasting stitching),

both six-foot tall, sans serif, in a two-minute off/on constant cycle, then and now sucking the life out of the other and then puffing themselves up

(with the dual generator box dividing their pronouncements), while testing for any damage or operational issues.

After being led in by her studio assistant Tucker,

I fell two paces back and was immediately confronted with the “W” in “NOW” becoming fully formed

and approaching my height, blocking my path and introduction temporarily.

Everywhere you look in Eggert’s studio you encounter text in various forms; photographed documentation of sculptures/ installations/performances

(whose lenticular format mimics both a kinesthetic viewing art stroll and a neon flicker);

the newest work just picked and hung for inspection, a cherry red reflective vinyl rectangular sign with “NOWHERE” inset within a highway sign border and format,

 flicking on and off the various combinations of its parts; the preceding flaccid nylon forms of NOW/THEN (2018)

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