Sasha Fishman’s exhibition Shad Mode at ILY2 tensions human imagination with scientific obfuscation in its exploration of Pacific Northwest aquatic life. Her exhibition, the result of a summer residency at ILY2, represents another investment in her research into the realms of energy harvesting, toxicology, and biomaterials. This research took Fishman to the Bonneville Lock and Dam and hatcheries of the Yakama Nation in order to investigate the de-population of lamprey and sturgeon as well as restoration and education efforts made by humans on their behalf. The exhibition takes its namesake from terminology used at dams on the Columbia River by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. 

Fishman’s study undergirds her sculptural approach to Shad Mode through curious works made with materials such as ceramic, aluminum, fish skin, river and lake water, all of which tease at the storied dynamics between aquatic life and humanity.

Fishman embraced a documentary, scientific, and sensory approaches to the creation of visual media, markedly without many words offered up as frames of reference in all these works. The only words I recall encountering appear on a large fish cannon made by, as per its label, “WHOOSHH INOVATIONS.” This object presented a striking focal point within ILY2’s gallery, centered in a pool of aquamarine carpet. 

The carpeting interconnected and flowed across the gallery floor like a river with pools and eddies. It gave way to a childhood memory, the game “the floor is lava,” wherein commonplace household decor could delineate the territories of imaginary worlds.

The fish canon itself offers an audience participation element. With help from a gallery attendant, visitors can project a pink silicone lamprey through a long suspended tube. Fishman engineered the tube to penetrate multiple gallery walls, sending the lamprey through various barriers, a gesture to the fish cannon’s primary function in ecological fields of work and study. I read in a post on Whooshh Innovation’s Instagram that the propulsive tool was developed “primarily for live fish transfer and handling tasks in aquaculture, hatchery operations, and studies where the fish are already being handled and especially where transfer is difficult, dangerous, or inefficient.” 

In ILY2, propelled by the force of air, the silicone lamprey moves quickly through the water-lubricated portal, ejecting at the tube’s termination point and bouncing violently from a nearby wall into a basket. I admired this finishing touch by Fishman, setting an ambivalent tone for the work.

Both exhilarating and disquieting, the fish cannon reminded me of so many human made portals and trajectories designed to traverse and bypass. I thought of an MRI tube and a speculum entering the vaginal canal. I recalled being funneled into the back of an economy flight, taking the subway during rush hour, filing outside during elementary school fire drills, and even going under anesthesia in the operating room. These human-made tactics, like the fish cannon, boast their obvious benefits, yet with byproducts of misery. Humanity inflicts this kind of control and discomfort not only on other species, but also upon itself as a means-to-an-end.

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Another large work, Plastic Plastic Trapped Love (Interpretive Hexagon), looms abstractly in the gallery, almost like an 6-foot-tall, idling space ship.  Panels of sand-cast aluminum contain photographs from Fishman’s trips to Yakama Nation Fisheries, Bonneville Hatchery, and Bonneville Lock and Dam. The affixed photos depict an array of memories, such as a dam, wind turbines, lampreys, a storage facility of presumed aquatic specimens, a sturgeon with its barbels poking into the frame. Its shape and presentation conjure the pitfalls of outdated information kiosks, the patina of psuedo-objective educational information presented for public consumption. Fishman’s presentation, however, reaches towards other paths to understanding, stirring my curiosity and the desire to do my own research on these sites and subject matter. 

Other works call in the presence of fish and lamprey. Many pieces on the walls speak to the unique makeup of these creatures, using sturgeon skin and ceramic structures. One image at the far end of the gallery catches my eye. I recognize it as a photo of two mermaids, performers in an underwater show at Weeki Watchi Springs State Park not too far from my hometown in Florida. At first, the mermaids’ presence gave me pause—why the fantasy amidst this exhibition’s scientific attachment?

Fishman’s work honors human inclination for imagination, I realized, while also questioning humanity’s power to implement systems. In considering her art, I recalled the Klamath River restoration, the removal of four dams last year, and the recent momentous return of Chinook Salmon to the Sprague and Williamson rivers after over a century. Unlike these salmon, many humans, myself included, lack the ancestral memory, thousands of years of evolutionary history tying us to the specific ecosystems where we reside and migrate—a conundrum that serves to heighten the dichotomy of human vs. nature. Yet, humans are animals too, made of all the elements that surround us. In this way, Shad Mode points out that how we treat the world intimates how we treat ourselves.

Shad Mode is on view at ILY2 through December 20th. The gallery is located at 925 NW Flanders and is open Wednesday through Saturday 11:00am-5:00pm.