A Blind Spot.  by Penny Rafferty

The moment a blind spot appears it gives way to the potential of anything. When that blind spot is human-sized and negated from space, it often persuades the viewer to envisage it as an objective hauntology. This is not an intimidating nor spine-chilling spook, it’s merely there. Neutral to human projects, but still representing a certain unearthly truth. One viewer can enter the room and cast their thoughts, bias or temperament onto the object, and leave. Another can enter finding an entirely different emotional vocabulary and leave. The object is not affected by either, it does not retain either gaze’s mood, one could argue—following this trajectory—that it revokes even its creator’s vision.
This absolute rebellion is what makes abstraction so specific, the chaos of misinterpretation is the impulsive luxury of the work. Lotta Bartoschewski entertains this notion, she delivers the abstract allegory into the formal white cube, wrenching through its alabaster precision with sculpted interruptions and bodily intuition. Deep-set yellows, pinks and aqua blues leave signature hints—framing and un-framing the onlooker’s gaze. Human-sized, she hacks into the architecture, you can see she has perfected a self-sustainable, self-motivated reaction to the arid landscape.
This act, neither violent nor carefree, is the very act that transfers the hauntology into space; the remnants of making refer to the temporal situation both historically and ontologically, but there is a break, a glitch between the maker, the object and the viewer. This moment is key to understanding the work, but not necessary when viewing it. This schism where the apparent presence of being is replaced with a non-origin is the exact instant it exists. The figure of the ghost is neither present, nor absent, neither is it dead or alive, it is merely a living abstraction.