Why do we make things? If you're an artist like Cameron Kerr, you don't have much choice. "This is what I do, every day of the week," the sculptor explains from his East Vancouver studio. The amount of work on Kerr's studio walls is, in a word, staggering. Outside in a covered area, larger-scale sculptural pieces in different stages of completion reside. Kerr's work, like the man himself, is big and possessed of considerable presence. But it is also curiously fluid, moving in unexpected fashion to incorporate a dizzying array of ideas, images and manifestations. Cameron Kerr: Collecting the Unconscious, a solo exhibition of the artist's work at Griffin Art Projects in North Vancouver, runs until mid-August. Curated by the Trapp Projects's Patrik Andersson, Collecting is a deeply curious compendium of the familiar and the wildly idiosyncratic. Please insert, run text width This range shouldn't come as a surprise. In my hours spent to talking to Kerr, the conversation roamed from Canadian rural accents to the home studio of the famed French sculptor Auguste Rodin. Curiously enough, Brion Gysin, creator of the Dreamachine, an interactive work designed to bring on a hypnagogic state, also popped up. Which is fitting, given that many of the pieces in Collecting the Unconscious are doing exactly that. The collection surfaces the interstitial place between sleep and wakefulness, where the conscious mind takes one last gasp before the body slips under the dark water of sleep. Born in Campbell River, Kerr came to art because, as he describes it, he was one of those kids who wouldn't stop drawing. At age 20, he moved to Italy to study marble at the Accademia di Belle Arti di Carrara with American sculptor Manuel Neri. He subsequently immersed himself in the Bay Area Figurative Movement, and he studied metal with Antony Gormley in the U.K. Those experiences informed his approach to such wide-ranging materials as marble, cedar and metal. Although he is primarily a sculptor, Keer's collection of new work in the Griffin incorporates photographic images drawn from diverse sources, including old print magazines like National Geographic. His search for interesting images is expansive in extremis. Eyes, whether in a human, fish or bird, figure large. So, too, are shapes that appear in nature, whether a stone arch sculpted over centuries, or the opening of a halved coconut that the artist purchased in Vancouver's Chinatown. This shared architecture, echoed in natural forms, is revealed and remade, placed onto carved wooden shapes that undulate and snake around the images themselves. Please insert, run XXL There is a curious choreography at work. Not just a call and response, but an arc, akin to an electric current leaping between ideas. The connections between things give rise to their own form of found poetry, highlighting the frisson that occurs in the process of juxtaposition. Put two disparate objects beside each other, and in the space between them, something entirely unexpected springs up. The press material describes these recurring motifs as "vernacular image systems, memory and canonical forms in a variety of mediums." But anyone who grew up flipping through old copies of National Geographic in their grandparent's basement will be familiar not only with the images themselves, but also the Ben Day printing process that uses small dots of colour to create a fully realized image. Curator Andersson, who founded Trapp Projects in 1997 to present and promote the work of local and international artists, met Kerr at Emily Carr University of Art + Design, when the young artist took a survey course on 20th century art that Andersson taught. The two have collaborated in previous exhibitions, including a public art installation undertaken with Barbara Cole and Other Sights for Artists' Projects "where we installed road barriers that [Kerr] had carved out of marble outside Vancouver's Public Art Gallery and Queen Elizabeth Theatre," as Andersso...