At first glance, the large panels in bright colors and bold patterns seem precariously mounted, like mismatched sheets for a fort in a child’s bedroom. It feels fun, creative and a little rebellious, like making a mess instead of the bed, especially in contrast with some of the more traditional works in the Currier Museum of Art’s collection.

Despite the title of the installation, “The Former Mistake,” it is no accident. Newmarket artist Kirsten Reynolds designed the architectural sculpture specifically for the Manchester gallery, beginning a scale model in her studio last winter.

Using the model, in which one inch equaled one foot, she took photographs with paper people populating the room to determine how viewers would see the installation. Once it looked right, she began the labor intensive construction of the pieces this summer, painting, screen-printing and carving. Her vision took three weeks to assemble on site this fall, allowing visitors to observe the process.

So, if you laugh a little too loud for the nearly silent gallery or even catch yourself saying the word “poop,” it’s all part of the plan.
Reynolds is the first to exhibit in the Spotlight New England series of the newly remodeled gallery. It runs through February 2009, during which time she will also be the artist-in-residence for the Currier’s Open Studio program. The ongoing series focuses on innovative art of exceptional caliber produced in New England, with special attention given to artists working in New Hampshire.

The structure is in several pieces, flowing naturally in a chaotic way between two gallery spaces. The process seems suspended between collapse and construction, leaving the viewer to question whether it is the mistake, the result of a mistake, or an upcoming solution to the mistake. Reynolds’ central intention is to provoke questions.

Reynolds considers the work an architectural tableau, an installation that suggests movement or change, but is still stuck in time. This sets a scene akin to a theatrical stage. Meanwhile, visitors to the exhibit become audience and actors. People are encouraged to stroll around the installations and walk on the painted floor panels, which are, in fact, difficult to avoid. The placement is supposed to create another challenge to interpreting the scene.

The structure appears differently from various perspectives within the gallery; details become apparent and cartoon-like clues emerge. Behind the largest element, overlapping shadows of the scaffolding-like artwork are cast on the white walls of the gallery. There, one can also see yellow claws or banana peels that have collected at the center of the structure. Near one wall, there appears to be a mop leaning against the structure, while brown piles of waste linger near discarded, faded blue rags. These biomorphic shapes are carved from polyurethane foam, suggesting shapes that are simultaneously familiar and strange.

The panels are made from Gatorfoam and are therefore lighter than the construction materials they look like. On the other hand, there is a sense of delicacy implied in the patterns painted on them, which were taken directly from small squares of rice paper used for origami. The structure is supported with a combination of installation foam that is painted with a faux wood grain and real wood beams of the same size. The real wood is also painted, making the two indistinguishable. There are oversized nails or push-pins at some junctures to supposedly hold it all together.

Reynolds calls into question the integrity of buildings, blurring the boundaries between real, remembered and imagined. What you see is not what you get. There’s disconnect between expectation and perception, causing the viewer to look again. This installation challenges people to question not only the fabricated space, but the world they live in.

This is Reynolds’ largest and most complex work to date, though part of a series running for the past five years that investigates how architecture, language and body come together. She says there aren’t easy answers to the questions posed by the installation, such as what is this situation and why is it here? But, she says, asking the questions puts people in a position where they’re deeply engaged in their surroundings, discovering something new through physical and mental exploration.
“It’s a form that you have to experience on many different levels,” she said.

Reynolds and her husband designed and helped build the house they live in. She says the experience improved her work with a better understanding of architectural design and the labor behind building, but her home does not reflect her artistic style. It’s a Greek revival style with a solid base and columns like a temple in a shade of gray, the opposite of what you’d expect.

The Currier Museum of Art is located at 150 Ash St., Manchester, 603-669-6144, www.currier.org