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Have you ever felt like a wounded cow
halfway between an oven and a pasture?
walking in a trance toward a pregnant
    seventeen-year-old housewife’s
    two-day-old cookbook?


E. G. Hall is a visual artist working out of San Francisco, CA. Hall studied at UC Santa Barbara where she attained a Bachelor’s degree in English Literature and Art History. She participated in exhibitions in Phoenix, AZ including a juried feature in the ArtLink Annual Gala. Her sculptures reveal the processes of their making and act as compressions of time and experience with aesthetics that point to geological forms and the humans body. She compares culture and the socialized body to our relationships to time and the natural world, focusing on artificial intervention, catastrophe, and growth. Hall has been selected to be an artist in residence at The Jentel Foundation in Wyoming in February 2024.


2022 Artist Statement



CV

b. December, 1997

Education

UC Santa Barbara with a major in English Literature and minor in Art History.


Awards/Fellowships

2024
   Artist in Residence at The Jentel              Foundation, Banner, WY

Exhibitions

2023
Group Exhibition, Fold/Unfold, Eye Lounge Gallery, Phoenix, AZ

Group Exhibition, Symbiosis, an installation with Patricia Sannit for Artlink Art D’Core Gala, Phoenix, AZ

2022
Group Exhibition, Rocking S Art Ranch, Phoenix, AZ

Solo Exhibition, Broken Vessels,Practical Art Gallery, Phoenix, AZ

Group Exhibition, Body Talk, Eye Lounge Gallery, Phoenix, AZ

2019    
Group Exhibition, Art 12 Final Show, Glass Box Gallery, Santa Barbara, CA
Turning and turning in the widening gyre   The falcon cannot hear the falconer;Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere   The ceremony of innocence is drownedThe best lack all conviction, while the worst   Are full of passionate intensity.Surely some revelation is at handSurely the Second Coming is at hand.   The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out   When a vast image out of Spiritus MundTroubles my sight: somewhere in sands of the desert   A shape with lion body and the head of a man,   A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun, Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it   Reel shadows of the indignant desert birds. The darkness drops again; but now I know   That twenty centuries of stony sleep    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle, And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,   Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

@eeemolee / emilygracehall97@gmail.com