a stack of image positives used in the creation of the anthotypes
location: 
a shipping container situated at
110 N Main St
Akron, OH 44308


September 06 – November 02, 2024

gestures of resistance
subverts the context of the shipping container — the ultimate symbol of capitalist production — by reimagining the space as a vehicle for unfinished ideas and speculative acts of material resistance rather than products. This container is now an unassuming test site. A place to contemplate possibility. 

The starting point for this investigation is the anthotype, which involves using light sensitive pigment and the sun to “print” positive imagery onto a surface (a sort of natural dying-experimental photography-printmaking hybrid). The residues of my own consumption provide the source material for all of the pigments I’ve used — vegetable scraps, excess takeout condiments and grass clippings. I’m interested in experimentation instead of production, inefficiency instead of productivity, and process instead of product. The anthotype is all of these things. It is best created thoughtfully, slowly, but is ultimately ephemeral. The color will fade with time and exposure to the sun. Therefore, the end result is close to nothing at all. A faint surface stain is the only lasting evidence of the previous series of actions. 

These anthotypes are my disappearing ink; a material connected to childhood play as well as historical events, communication and espionage. They have the potential to be political as well as the potential to be inconsequential, and this is what intrigues me about them. The stakes could be high or low. There is freedom in this, but also responsibility.

I propose the anthotype as a speculative means to test ideas. If the resulting print is (or was) bad, wrong, inadequate, etc. it doesn’t matter — it will, someday and at varying speeds, disappear. How many tangible things do we make that actually vanish? How many intangible things for that matter? I see the anthotype as a way to break free of the capitalist pressure to perform (as in do well), to produce (which is a complicated weight that I often feel as an artist) and to embody a static identity designed by algorithms. It may also be a way to communicate more discreetly — under the guise of soft-focus edges, variable legibility and benign natural materials, and under the radar of oppressive powers. 

The ephemeral nature of these images makes space for testing, uncertainty and flexibility. They allow for active, responsive participation in evolving cultural conversations. Even after the imagery has faded, the residues of their pigments ferment, shift in color and develop new sensory characteristics. They smell of something both alive and dead. At once seductive and repulsive, they are anything but static.

Anthotypes also strike me as a sort of analog time-based process, and I’m interested in their possible connections to video and performance. How might gesture manifest through this process? What other durational effects might be possible? How can I use these in combination with the digital processes that have previously enabled my practice?

The 1,173.7 cubic feet of this space provides the site at which to explore these and other questions.



Rachel Ferber is an interdisciplinary artist, designer and educator based in Cleveland, OH. Her work explores the sticky sides of power, performance and sustainability through the lens of commodified private space. Ferber holds an MFA from Cranbrook Academy of Art, and a BFA from Pacific Northwest College of Art. In addition to her studio, she runs an experimental natural dye project called The Dye Bath, and is one half of the art and design initiative, NEW NEW NEW. She is an Assistant Professor at Cleveland Institute of Art.  

This project is funded and made possible by Curated Storefront.