Rebekha Johnson’s exhibit, Trousseau reviewed by Deb Gloeckler

You might expect to see a flutter of moths upon entering Rebekha Johnson’s exhibit, Trousseau, at Exchanges Gallery. There is a strong sense that something has just been released from the open, cedar hope chests featured in her latest light-based sculpture. The gallery walls are lined, in systematic repetition, with small, delicately handwritten, pages that have a moth-like quality. Each holds a portion of Anton Chekhov’s short story, The Trousseau, and is mounted on thin red-cedar panels. One wall is empty, as are the pages that lay on top of three white plinths. The arrangement of the blank pages, loosely bound with ribbon between cedar panels, suggests something unfinished; as if there was some intent to make a book but the project was interrupted or abandoned.

Traditional ideas about marriage, women’s roles and women’s expectations emit from the three large cedar chests propped open in the centre of the gallery. Through the printed histories of each chest manufacturer, Johnson describes the economic and cultural changes in society over the past century. The chests, placed in descending order of manufacture date and weight, hint at the fact that the role of women, the importance of marriage, the meaning of home, and the need to stockpile material possessions, have all changed within that time period. The purpose of the trousseau has been diluted with each generation. Glowing light escapes through the only thing that still exists inside the chests: motifs and words, that have been hand-cut into carefully layered sheets of vellum, like holes in the tissue used to protect the handcrafted items traditionally saved in a trousseau. Using words from interviews with her own mother, cousin, daughters and daughter in-law, Johnson illuminates the evolution of attitudes toward marriage; its importance to women and its impact on their hopes, dreams and reality. Through the use of light, transparency and ‘cut-outs’, the chests are made to feel empty, as if something is missing or has been lost, bringing attention to the unfulfilled dreams or abandoned intentions of women as they relate to the traditional idea of marriage. In contrast, a partially opened heavy, chest drawer exposes precious wedding photographs and ceremony cards that belong to the artist’s own family. Although the importance of marriage and the traditions associated with marriage have begun to disintegrate the importance of family remains solid, protected and untouched.

Johnson successfully contrasts the physical weight of the cedar chest against the weightlessness of light, emphasizing the difference between dreams and reality. Heavy, dark wood impresses the weight that comes from saving, planning, and expecting, while the temporary nature and transparency of light describe the real contents of the trousseau: hopes, dreams, intentions; many that are never fulfilled or realized. As attitudes toward marriage and the role of women change over time, the trousseau, as described in Chekhov’s story, needed for the tradition of saving household and personal items for use after marriage, has become an unnecessary commodity. Much like the short life of Chekhov’s character, Manetchka, the trousseau has become a symbol of sadly unfulfilled intentions and expectations. Johnson asks if we are willing to release our own attitudes toward the tradition of marriage and family. Although the trousseau, itself, is outdated and the significance of the traditions of marriage have degenerated, the importance of family seems indestructible and may be the one thing that can truly be symbolized by the promise printed on the trousseau’s cedar lining label, “Guaranteed Against Moth Damage”.