Do Not Touch: an exploration of delicate obsessions

Curator. Consolidated Works, Seattle. January - February 2000

Artists: Nayland Blake (New York), Cris Bruch (Seattle), John Fraser (Chicago), Colleen Hayward (Seattle), Maria Inocencio (Portland, OR), Michelle Kelly (Seattle), Michiko Kon (New York), Matthew Landkammer (Seattle), D’Arcy McGrath (Seattle), Stephanie Speight (Portland)

As Director of Visual Art for Consolidated Works, I was presented with the unique opportunity to program four exhibitions in a cavernous 30,000 sq. ft. warehouse space over the course of ten months. Following the inaugural show Artificial Life, which filled the gallery with large-scale, physically commanding works, it seemed only logical to continue showcasing pieces that made dramatic use of the space’s soaring ceilings and expansive walls. But I became increasingly interested in resisting that expectation. Instead, I was drawn to the idea of curating an exhibition that embraced fragility—one that would set delicate, ephemeral work in stark contrast to the monumental architecture of the gallery.

Do Not Touch grew from this tension between space and scale, featuring artists whose obsessive use of time and tender materials challenged the physical and conceptual parameters of the warehouse. Portland artist Maria Inocencio contributed drawings composed of strands of her own hair, glued end to end, forming subtle and intimate documents of time and ritual. Stephanie Speight, also based in Portland, created 75 large balls of cash register tape, which tumbled across the floor and dangled from the ceiling. D’Arcy McGrath’s miniature figures—carved from soap and perched delicately on pins and paper nut cups—stood silently with hand-written signs pleading for care. What linked these works wasn’t just material vulnerability, but the compulsive attention their creation required.

As the show evolved, I expanded its scope to include artists whose work embodied conceptual and emotional fragility. Michiko Kon photographed sculptures made from perishable ingredients like chicken feet, octopus, and glistening fish heads—temporary compositions rendered permanent only through lush cibachrome prints. Nayland Blake’s oversized bunny suit and sugary, disturbing rabbit drawings played with extremes of sweetness and menace, while John Fraser’s grid of 196 antique shirt collars invited close inspection through hypnotic repetition and shadow play. Though modest in scale and materials, each work in Do Not Touch commanded attention by daring viewers to approach slowly, look closely, and engage deeply. Together, these pieces transformed the warehouse into a site of quiet power—one where vulnerability stood resilient against the vastness around it.