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Somewhere between Richard Rezac, Fecteau, and Kobro, the fantasy of the machine, that thing that serves us. Of course something erotic about that. A table accepts your feet on it, the meat grinder barfs sausage by the mile, generates. A complaint-less subservience, erotic. The microwave, more than reheated food, offered the fantasy of an inch toward paradise. It is a slave. Think of the fetish for horsepower, for ponies under the hood, under your feet, control. The machine sub to its dom. These look purposed. Look like other things vaguely. As their power. "the elusive mechanisms of interpretation" any object blurrying suggestion for the function they provide (to us) produces an uncanny effect. We say they look otherworldly, alien, simply because we don't know what good they are to us. They appear designed but without a purpose we can ascertain. We are so accustomed to objects bent to our service that appearing without purpose we call alien. The power of the uncanny is to teach us what we expect from certain forms by removing the parts that would cause recognition, replaced with mystery, potential, of what it could possibly do. For us.
See too: Richard Rezac at The Renaissance Society, Richard Rezac at Isabella Bortolozzi, Vincent Fecteau at greengrassi
