To’s images evade representation even though on the paintings’ surface, her impulse is taxonomical. The canvases – washes of murky greens, rotten teals, and the odd flash of lifeless brown – are either isolated records of the lost, quotidian human or close-up studies of unexplained supernatural phenomena. Half-washed-off cave markings, crumbling Art Deco ornaments, and sheer rot mix to produce undecipherable records.
When they confuse the scholar, these images are captivating. But To gives her hand away too easily. Moments of clarity – ironically, the last thing one wants of her paintings – reveal that she determined each subject’s cypher before she even picked up her brush. That Lascaux bison was but a hoax.
Give it some time, however, because all evidence erodes eventually. Within an aeon or two, matter may still win over the mind.
