From My Room
An exhibition by Ruby Allegra
(they/them)
Written by Julia Rose (they/them)
At Newmarch Gallery in early November, both disabled and non-disabled people excitedly gather to behold the opening of disabled artist Ruby Allegra’s solo exhibition, From My Room. Unlike most other exhibition openings, Ruby has organised an online component to be held over Zoom, the idea being that no one should have to compromise their health or well-being in order to attend. As I join the call I’m greeted by Hadley Johnson of Open That Door, who is there with an Auslan interpreter welcoming people into the session. Because of where the laptop is positioned, we are able to watch as Ruby enters the gallery, warmly embracing several attendees before making their way to the laptop, where they warmly embrace us too. We are seen to with the same amount of care as the other, in-person attendees, an undertaking that is emblematic of the love and care Ruby has for their fellow disabled people, as well as an ethos of collective access.
From a big bed at the centre of the room, Ruby delivers their artist talk. With the room set up like a bedroom, the bed acts as both an installation piece and a nod to the show’s title. As Ruby sits at the centre of the bed atop a pink and red crochet blanket, a pastel canopy acting as their backdrop, they graciously invite their disabled friends to sit on the bed with them as they address the room. It immediately reminds me of Pillow Talk, a recent exhibition by disabled artist Jamila Main, wherein attendees were invited to lie in bed next to a laptop recording of Jamila reciting their poetry. Bed has once again been used as a site with which disabled people can process and share their emotions; in this moment, Ruby is inviting us to share in their disabled pride, but disabled people will also know it as a place of anger, anguish, hope, excitement, pleasure, and pain.
Described as “a colourful celebration of disabled existence,” From My Room is like the rainbow that appears when light hits a prism. Ruby has taken their “disabled joy, pride, pain and pleasure” and with it created illustrations, paintings, lino-prints, textile works, scultupures and installations, all made, as the name suggests, from their bedroom. As explained by Ruby, their multi-disciplinary practice enables them to experiment with different formats for exploring and communicating their feelings, with new mediums often resulting from Ruby’s hyperfixations. No matter the medium, Ruby’s art is naturally captivating, utilising a generous colour palette – with a tendency towards pinks and reds – and evoking a sense of childlike awe and wonder.
Moreover, Ruby’s art is unapologetically political. From commentary on disabled loneliness and social isolation, particularly in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, to the idea of resting as a means of resisting capitalism, political themes are interwoven through out Ruby’s work. Even the show’s subtitle, “a celebration of disabled joy and identity,” can in many ways be seen as a political message, when disabled people have historically been prohibited from openly celebrating themselves and each other. Ruby’s artwork proudly states that disabled people deserve to celebrate and be celebrated, love and be loved.
Described as “a colourful celebration of disabled existence,” From My Room is like the rainbow that appears when light hits a prism. Ruby has taken their “disabled joy, pride, pain and pleasure” and with it created illustrations, paintings, lino-prints, textile works, scultupures and installations, all made, as the name suggests, from their bedroom. As explained by Ruby, their multi-disciplinary practice enables them to experiment with different formats for exploring and communicating their feelings, with new mediums often resulting from Ruby’s hyperfixations. No matter the medium, Ruby’s art is naturally captivating, utilising a generous colour palette – with a tendency towards pinks and reds – and evoking a sense of childlike awe and wonder.
Moreover, Ruby’s art is unapologetically political. From commentary on disabled loneliness and social isolation, particularly in the context of the COVID-19 pandemic, to the idea of resting as a means of resisting capitalism, political themes are interwoven through out Ruby’s work. Even the show’s subtitle, “a celebration of disabled joy and identity,” can in many ways be seen as a political message, when disabled people have historically been prohibited from openly celebrating themselves and each other. Ruby’s artwork proudly states that disabled people deserve to celebrate and be celebrated, love and be loved.
From My Room is an invitation to rest, to share love and joy, and to honour ourselves and our disabled kin, with Ruby generously cultivating a space space for us to do so. “You’re here. Amidst art. You can rest,” writes Ruby. From the exhibition opening to the exhibition itself, From My Room continuously reminds us to take care of each other and ourselves, to rest as political protest, and to always be practicing collective care, access, and liberation.
From My Room is on at Newmarch Gallery on Kaurna Yerta until December 3rd, 2022.