Ruznic’s intimate, multi-layered ink drawings ooze monumental awkwardness and fragility. They make me wonder if Ruznic is ok, serving as conduit for such a deluge of psychological content.
Like book pages, her works on paper draw viewers in for a close read. Without glass or frame to mediate, formalize or protect, her figurative images still a multitude of animated emotional states. In them, patches of miniature pattern work offer decorative skins to otherwise fragmented and floating, decontextualized bodies; spindly limbs dangle from pools of emotion. Not automatic or surreal, Ruznic’s works are portraits that conflate our sometimes sweet and sometimes monstrous humanity.