Anderson’s felt and fabric collages present themselves to us as vacant vignettes populated with liveliness, tension, bravery, and optimism. The communities of beads, ropes, bags, and balls coexist on walls revealing a multifaceted practice that merges the sculptural, the painterly, and the theatrical. Each work dazzles the viewer with its complex relationship of the materials which opens up one’s imagination. It is on the edge of connectivity of objecthood and imagination in Anderson’s work resides an unfolded experience of beauty and art. As a consequence, with this magniloquence, the work makes us sing and enjoy life a little more. And ineluctably, take it or leave it, but at the end of the day, this is all we need from art and beauty. 

It would be more accurate to say that Anderson’s effulgent compositions deploy a poetry of sublime lyricism that suggests knowledge without employing any of the familiar words. So it should come as no surprise that beauty and art reassert themselves on the margins of speech that the artist generates with her forms and structures. It stands on the road to imagination of the musical rhythm that occurs in the viewer’s head. This musicality of the work becomes you. As Kerouac would have it, “For the first time in my life the weather was not something that touched me, that caressed me, froze or sweated me, but became me.”