Kasia Fudakowski, It’s clear to me now, albeit decidedly too late, that we have not always seen things from the same perspective, (Roasted) XXXII, 2023; Plexiglass, acrylic paint, copper, metal, wiring, bulbs; Overall: 150 × 65 × 26 cm
The cascading, translucent husks, reminiscent of shrimp exoskeletons are formed by melted, and overlapping acrylic glass, bound together with either delicate copper or aluminum wire. The hues, ranging from a gray/blue, pearlescent sheen to the more familiar pink of a freshly cooked shrimp, are sprayed into the interior and use the qualities of acrylic glass to mix color and light to create the illusion of tinted edges.
In common parlance, being called a shrimp is synonymous with a derisive diminutiveness and weakness, while in a culinary context they are often associated with luxury, high-status and wealth. The shrimp, and its co-opted, symbolic straddling of both pejorative and affirmative human status has become a recurring motif through a number of Fudakowski’s works.
In Are you eating well? (2014), the translucent, pink forms were strung up in a passageway, and scattered around the floor, creating obstacles for visitors, while the title connected to a grandmother’s anxiety for the health and wealth of her granddaughter. In the same year, Death of a Shrimp, a square formatted video screen turning very slowly from gray to pink, abstracted the process of death into a simple color change. In Revenge (2019), small polymer clay shrimp symbolized the wrath inflicted on a cheating ex-lover by their jilted other-half; sewn inside curtains, where the shrimp (if real) would slowly decompose creating an invisible yet sensational stench. In the series It’s clear to me now, albeit decidedly too late, that we have not always seen things from the same perspective (2021 – ongoing), enlarged shrimp husks hang with lightbulbs dangling like milky, dislodged eyes–pointing to a more sinister end; that of an environment thoroughly out of balance.