Games of Ceres

Juan Alvear, Vincent Castro, Sessa Englund, Joseph McGehee, Sophie Friedman-Pappas

Organized by Lauren Studebaker

July 13 – August 13, 2018


In the language of library & archival science, inherent vice is the tendency of materials to deteriorate due to the
fundamental instability of the components of which they are made, as opposed to deterioration caused by external
forces. Everything has some kind of inherent vice as a result of the baseline law of entropy.

Thus, to archive something is to create an index of loss-–a recognition of a future disappearance––and to halt
progress in its tracks. The archive becomes the antecedent to entropy, a way of holding onto what’s not yet been
lost, a manipulation of time and recognition of the “slow cancellation of the future. 


1801 marked the discovery of the first asteroid known to humankind. Large enough to be considered a dwarf planet,
Ceres is made up of a rocky surface painted with ice formations and carved with series of craters and impact sites
from contact with other asteroids. The surface is rife with tension, with cryovolcanic events often occuring. Ceres is
one of the few bodies in our solar system that has the potential for it own independent organic life; the dwarf planet
has a remnant internal ocean buried beneath the layers of ice, above its mantle.

Ceres, at 945 km in diameter, is 200,000 times larger in mass than Chicxulub, the last major asteroid to come in
contact with the Earth 66 million years ago (and causing the mass extinction of the dinosaurs). If Ceres was to come
in contact with the earth all traces of our civilization–– as well as all existing complex life––would be completely


To imagine an human-centric ecology of the future is to extend the earth beyond its uncertain trajectory, and to
speculate that existing man-made institutions of organization will further exist. Humanity seeks extension, in the
immediate through the development of new technologies and power structures to build upon the existing human
physicality--Grosz writes that “living bodies tend towards prosthesis,” to say that the inherent entropy of the human
body creates a desire for these extensions to accelerate the self (individual and as a species) into immortality.

What’s lost, though, in this tempest of progress and promise of extension, as well as the common critique
of manmade ecologies of language, power, and capital, is a recognition of the failing ecologies that exist outside of the
man-made, or the imminent threat of extinction by way of climate change or cosmic mishap.

It’s not in the consideration of objects as subjective through which a speculative ecology can be approached, but by
understanding and examining the organic materials that make up things (including the physical body) external to
human thought and agency.



Sophie Friedman Pappas, Quicksand Above Cupid's Crib, 2018, hand carved basswood, sticks, twigs, sawdust, eggshells, oil paint, leather, leaves, found fabric, human hair, metal, 30 x 20 x 20 in.

Sessa Englund, Troll pair series # 18, 2018, Cast latex and silicone, 10 x 8 x 2 1/2 in x 2

Joseph McGehee, Chunk of Old Earth B, 2018, Foam, acrylic, digital inkjet print, rocks, magnifying lens, 8 x 14 x 5 in.

Sessa Englund, Troll pair series # 17, 2018, Cast latex and silicone, 8 x 6 x 3 x 2 in.

Joseph McGehee, Chunk of Old Earth A, 2018, Foam, acrylic, digital inkjet print, rocks, magnifying lenses, 27 x 17 x 4 in.

Vincent Castro, My Arms Ooze out of my Shoulder, 2018, Wire, clay, bandages, latex, 8.5 x 19 x 7 in.  

Juan Alvear, Bronze Heel with Nail Extension, 2018, Bronze, nail polish, 17 x 11 x 4 in.

Vincent Castro, Cord, 2018, Wire, clay, latex, 3D print, dimensions variable