Silas Finch, sculptor
CAPE COD

Silas was born and raised on Cape Cod, poking around his father's Antique Shop in Brewster. These images are from his solo exhibition in September 2012.





FLINTLOCK


Fragments, pieces, parts, scraps, objects adrift, without connection, undefined. These objects are given new identities and are reconnected to something whole. A more dramatic transformation could not be imagined. In the hands of Silas Finch, the objects transcend their strictly utilitarian purpose and become true works of art.


INDEFATIGABLE NIXON


Silas, preferring to use his hands and basic tools, searches for their new purpose, positioning and repositioning parts until they achieve a natural union. He does not alter the form of the individual parts by processes such as bonding or welding in order to force them to fit together. His process demands that he endure the ever present possibility of collapse. Yet taking these risks is what makes the moment of connection so satisfying for the artist.


HEMOFAMILIA


Viewing his sculptures, we are reminded of the multiple possibilities and potentialities of life and the underlying principles of rearrangement and reorganization that keep our perspectives fresh and changing.


TWO SIDES OF THE COMMUNIST COIN



CONVERSATION BETWEEN ISAIAH AND JEREMIAH



PETER RABBIT




CHARLIE



CURIOUS LAMENT



MALACHAI


ADRIFT



A combination of Geppetto fashioning metal Pinocchios and Thomas Edison indifferent to utility, Silas Finch has a gift for re-imagining the curious debris of the ordinary world. His workshop is an archive of vaguely identifiable fragments that, once he plots the instructions for their assembly, become small, unofficial mysteries. The relationship of part to part is always unexpected, but never forced. Every joining point seems the result of a logical connection

He understands history's machinery, traced on skateboard maps of violence with bullet track threads of gunfire and assassinations. But he also fashions animals for minor carousels, dwarf flying ships dangling beneath newspaper balloons, prosthetic limbs for carnival fortune tellers, and saw blade frames around found crucifixions.

Then he finds a dream of Emily Dickinson in a parachute dress, and outdoors, he lattices a tree with pruned branches for a fog trap.

Every one of his battered, artful constructions is an instrument for decoding memories - both his and ours.



- Stephen Vincent Kobasa
Contributing Editor, Art New England