For ‘IT’, Jacob Kassay’s first solo exhibition in Scotland, the front door frame of Ivory Tars is covered with two tiny adhesive labels, each marked with one of the titular letters in a slanted print font and in Braille. The stickers exude a tiny but purposeful presence. From outside the gallery you can catch the flicker of lights inside, although the frosted glass of the windows interferes with the perception, so you can almost guess the effect, like the first glimpse of lightning in a storm.
Inside, the austerity is shocking. Light bulbs in the gallery ceiling track light flicker randomly, while OSB panels are installed in architectural recesses within the walls. Kassay photographed these panels and printed the images on their surfaces with slight but deliberate misalignment. This simple gesture confuses the eye, tricking the viewer into perceiving movement where there is none. The illusion is so intense you can almost hear your brain buzzing: there’s nothing in its database to process it.
In the back space of the gallery, a lit candle hangs low to the floor, held in place by a metal clamp that looks like it was borrowed from a school science experiment. When the strength of the flame fluctuates (usually due to air being moved by someone walking down the gallery or opening the front door), it activates a sensor formed on the candle, which in turn affects gallery lights.
With these interventions (all elements considered as a single installation, HE, 2023), Kassay delves into her ongoing research into the act of looking, while delving into the liveliness of the gallery. The interaction demands something so naturally human. Are works of art and their hierarchy useless without an observer? Do we have to see something to exist? It is an eternal, existential question, which Kassay addresses with small gestures that evoke important bodily reactions.
