In this special show in our rear gallery, Eric Sullivan explores the quiet pull of nostalgia—how moments, places, and emotions linger not as fixed images, but as shifting impressions shaped by time. Through an interplay of glass, wood, and found objects, Sullivan aims to conjure these memories.

Central to Sullivan’s practice is the juxtaposition of texture and color. Glass, polished to pristine, sits in dialogue with the weathered grain of wood and the irregular surfaces of reclaimed materials. His use of microwave fused glass, both carefully crafted and deliberately imperfect, reflects a desire to balance control with spontaneity, echoing the way memory itself is both constructed and distorted.

A key material in this body of work, microwave-fused borosilicate glass, is made through a process that allows Sullivan to manipulate durability and fragility simultaneously. The resulting forms carry a distinctive, imperfect distortion, evidence of the unique transformation shaped by uncontrollable microwave radiation. Found objects play a crucial role in Sullivan’s process. He seeks out materials that bear traces of previous lives—fragments that suggest use, history, and human presence. By integrating these elements with glass forms made with intention, he bridges the gap between the past and the present, allowing each piece to function as a vessel.

The artworks in this show use repetition as a means of accessing memory—a conceptual thread informed by the work of artist Elaine Sturtevant. Sturtevant’s exploration of memory was central to her process; she became known for recreating works by other artists from memory, working “in the style of another artist” while subtly altering their material and presence. Her repetitions were never exact copies, but acts of recall—filtered and imperfect, transformed through perception and time.

In his newest works, Sturtevant herself becomes the subject, as Sullivan reinterprets her legacy through his own material language. By translating her ideas into compositions of glass, paint, and wood, he both honors and disrupts her process, redirecting the act of repetition back onto its source. In doing so, Sullivan creates a layered dialogue about authorship, memory, and transformation—one that underscores how even the act of remembering another artist’s work becomes an original gesture in itself. The works invite a kind of quiet reflection, encouraging an awareness of how personal histories attach themselves to the physical world.

Through this fusion of material exploration and emotional resonance, Eric Sullivan offers a body of work that is both tactile and introspective—an invitation to consider how memory is held, altered, and preserved with the objects we encounter and keep.