When viewed from the side, this work only appears to be a pile of disassembled pieces. It is not until walking to the front of the piece and deciding to bend further down to eye-level with the sleeping man, that these parts align to form one complete body. Nailed above him is a small image of lighted subway stop signage. Coins lay at the bottom of his upturned shoe, since the step after having money is having a place to keep it, which this man does not. Viewers sometimes add coins to the shoe, as if he is a wishing well. As the image of Christ’s face has barreled through centuries of art history, the subway Ecce Homo continues this tradition, through the face of an unassuming stop-less man.
How does an artist depict someone familiar, or a stranger, or someone who is no longer alive, or someone who they've never seen—as in the numberless portraits of Christ, for example? These scenarios continue to draw Jenn Cacciola to a variety of... » read more