Sweet Lorraine gallery is pleased to present Don’t Panic, curated by Francesca Pessarelli on view from October 11th through October 21st 2022. Don’t Panic is an imperative. We must not panic. The world is on fire but don’t panic. Your rights are on the line but don’t panic. We’re entering a recession but don’t panic. Your lover left you but don’t panic. But how? For those who are coping, how? For those who aren’t, what do you do? Take solace in humor. Meditate. Medicate. Make art. Scroll and scroll and scroll ad nauseam. Listen to your therapist. Listen to your astrologer. Don’t listen to the news. 

This exhibition brings together thirteen artists from Ti Art Studios whose works address the resilience of not panicking, the vulnerability it takes to give in to the panic, and what coping means in a time of overwhelming distress. Setting the tone is Sarah Angèle Wilson’s 00:01:40, a doomsday clock set at 100 seconds to midnight—100 seconds to panic before the Earth begins her new life without us. Similarly, Dara Oshin’s altar-like work The Moment considers nature’s ability for infinite regeneration; the cracks of the eggshell promising new life and rebirth. Time and space are also tracked in AV Ryan’s Seraph 1. This sculptural slice through space refracts light, acting almost as an abstracted sundial. The attempt to organize time becomes a futile exercise, emphasizing our lack of control. Syma’s Bowl to Catch Tears proposes a sacred use for our sadnesses while Karyn Lao’s Big Pom offers an outlet for comfort and play. Annie Coggan’s Extreme Smocking works exemplify the artist’s use of stitching, embroidery, and needlework as tools for empathy, offering relief, softness, and a sense of home. Xingze Li’s Untitled (8pm in June 2020) places us in the safe inside of a closed window, looking out to the threatening outside air of the early pandemic. This anxious rejection of an expanse of sky is also evoked in Katherine Keltner’s Crumpled Drawings. As if the very idea of going out, of being part of the world was scrapped, crumpled, and reconsidered. Michael Amendolara’s Picnic appears to take place in a dreamy blue sea of untouchable peace. As if it was the daydream of a picnic outdoors rather than one in the physical realm. In Natale Adgnot’s Ostrich Effect 2, safety—or the illusion of safety—is contended with through the allusion to the trope of ostriches sticking their heads in the ground when frightened. This delusion allows for coping without having to actually face the threat. Elise Putnam’s work answers the classic dilemma of fight or flight. In her work Flee, she chooses flight but simultaneous offers safety by using muslin as a base, taking us back to the innocence of infancy. False security also comes in the form of Francesco Tumbiolo’s Everything is Ok series. In these prints, Tumbiolo takes platitudes of comfort and superimposes them onto themselves until they are abstracted and meaningless. In doing so, he remarks on the futility of language to provide true healing in moments of panic or sorrow. Finally, diving head first into the abyss, Nancy Hubbard’s Samantha I appears to us as a chaotic fall into the dark or the vulnerable act of letting go. Sometimes it’s the only thing you can do. 

It’s one thing after another right now. As soon as the snow settles, the snow globe gets shaken up again. Take comfort in the fact you are not alone. Offer comfort if you have any to give. But whatever you do, Don’t Panic. 

Francesca Pessarelli