Apparently having a BIO is crucial. I didn't want the norm. I didn't get the norm. I got the brilliant words of Sioux Handschiegel. She is pure genius.
New Jersey is a mystifying place.
Exquisite mountains & meadows surround violent & crumbling neighborhoods.
It is a State of great wealth.
It is a State of great starvation.
New Jersey is a strange place.
It is not surprising, then, that this is the birthplace of Erica Resnick. It would take a land of contradiction to create an artist of such versatility & brilliance.
Or maybe it wasn’t even New Jersey that inspired her art. Maybe it was growing up, sawdust covered, in her Grandfather’s hardware store. Maybe it was the simple coming of age in a decaying world.
Hell, maybe the woman’s just insane.
Whatever the motivation, Erica Resnick combines the most delicate of photographic subject matter with the brutality of heavy metal. Literally & figuratively.
She confronts the world with sadism & innocence. Her art screams a hybrid of reality & an almost eagerly awaited apocalypse.
You can scream along.
Erica’s art engages all the senses. She has neither the time nor the inclination to be merely a visual artist. Her jagged nails can rip the skin of an elbow. The smell of her burnt wood strikes primitive fear in the collective unconscious.
& the photographs themselves...they are from a time none of us know or can remember. They are the simple representation of our deeply hidden desire to find a way – any way – home.
Erica Resnick is a chaos magician. Her work repels & entices. Her mixture of confusion & order is a stark tribute to a schizophrenic world.
God Protect our Honest Outlaws
