
"Each one of Erika Rier 's ceramic creatures has its own story, and most of them are at least a little unsettling. There's the vampiric little girl with several sets of eyes, and the crowned and horned woman clenching what appears to be a not-very-alive bunny-something menacing is lurking within all of them. But what Rier didn't anticipate when she first began sculpting these colorful friends years ago was the new lives they'd take on once they left her studio."
"People can accumulate these, and then they can make stories that I've never even thought of by just putting them together," she says. "That appeals to the storyteller part of me. I feel like I'm always trying to put things in there, little archetypal bits that people can pull to make stories for themselves with." Rier's characters are inspired by a love of mythology and storytelling-"
""[My sculptures] are people and animals and creatures who have full lives, full experiences, and full personalities," she says. "There are parts of ourselves, as feminine people, where we are beautiful and joyous and pleasant, and there are parts of us that are ugly and mean and not great. And we're all like that. Unfortunately, my work is still really sidelined because it is over-the-top feminine in a world that, at best, ignores the feminine, and at worst, is absolutely hostile towards it.""
The ceramic creatures are colorful, unsettling sculptures that blend mythic and folkloric motifs with domestic, feminine imagery. Each figure possesses distinct characteristics and implied biographies, encouraging collectors to combine pieces and invent new narratives. The work balances fictional references to mythology with lived experience as a woman, and often reads as commentary on persistent misogyny. Responses range from fascination to dismissal; some viewers are unsettled or hostile because the work foregrounds overt femininity. The sculptures are intended as beings with full lives and personalities, reflecting both joyous and difficult aspects of the feminine experience.
Read at Portland Mercury
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