The Shape of Rest - Mailbox Art Space
I ducked out of the rain earlier this week to check out Holly Goodridge’s The Shape of Rest at Mailbox Art Space. The show fills nineteen repurposed wooden mailboxes in the foyer of Pawson House on Flinders Lane in Melbourne’s CBD. Mailbox Art Space is a hidden secret for those who know about it, and I love being able to share it with friends who would otherwise walk past the unassuming building. I’ve written about Goodridge’s work previously, as part of the Convergence group show at Blindside and I’m so glad to be able to revisit her work in a place where it’s not competing for space against the rest of a student exhibition.
From what I know of Goodridge’s work, she usually does far larger, more interactive pieces, which are bright and colourful and loud. But these scaled back versions of her hand-knit textiles feel more thoughtful and personal, a pivot from what I’ve seen from her previously. These textile works are intimate and intricate, and are perfectly suited for the cozy mailboxes. Each mailbox holds a knitted piece around the size of a test swatch, which are often created to ensure the fit of a knit garment. The pieces are haphazardly adorned with kitschy, bright, plastic trinkets, which add to the whimsical joy these works bring.
The neurodivergent artist cites that these pieces are “metaphors for the invisible labour of autism” and she “transforms knitting and crochet into acts of regulation, testimony, and visibility.” One of the discussions in a crit at art school that I remember most vividly, was about how art forms that are often associated with women's labour (weaving, sewing, knitting, needlepoint - basically all fabric/textile work) get relegated to simply being ‘craft’ instead of ‘art.’ Goodridge not only reclaims the labour of textile art, but also makes a point about the invisible labour autistic people constantly undertake in a neurotypical world. The title of the show and also all the pieces, The Shape of Rest, makes me think of my mum, knitting away whenever she’s sat down in her chair. How the act of knitting isn’t an act of rest within itself (it’s an act of creation) but can transform into a meditative, calming activity, to do while at rest. How knitting is sensory feedback, the fidget toy to end all fidget toys that results in a functional end product.
There is one piece, at the far end of the row of mailboxes, which is pulled to the front of its box and pushed up against the glass. I suspect it’s due to some functional equipment taking up the majority of the box, making the constraints of this display even more of a creative challenge for artists that exhibit. In this case, I love the way the work has become backlit. The light peaks through the gaps of the knitting, highlighting even further the handmade nature of the work and toil that has gone into the piece. I wish some of the other works had been pushed up against the glass of the vitrines to take this further within the show.
This is now the second time I’ve written about a show at Mailbox Art Space, and the third time the mini gallery has featured on Lowbrow. What I love about Mailbox Art Space is how well it showcases how accessible art can be. It doesn’t have to be in a white cube commercial gallery, with an intimidatingly cool person on the front desk, asking if you want a room sheet, even though they know from first look you can't afford the four or five figure price tag attached to the work. Instead, the gallery embodies exactly what I want Lowbrow to continue to engage with, artist-run spaces that are by and for the community.
The Shape of Rest is on at Mailbox Art Space until November 22nd.