Within her body of work, Catherine Biocca frequently shapes environments that insinuate total autonomy from the viewer’s reality. It is almost as if by visitation we are actually intruding upon private property or a theater stage, interrupting the very happenings taking place. Her characters, often deemed recognizable as anthropomorphized assemblages, are consistently active and presently conscious within their surroundings. In the exhibition Milky Seas, the viewer is instantly pulled into an unpredictable narrative. We first happen upon a lively conversation we are not entirely sure we are meant to hear. Within the gallery space, two candidly aging women, their figures of which are made up of a variety of materials soft and solid, cackle and screech freely at one another for a time. Their exaggeratedly long limbs and wry facial expressions allude to a playful kind of jeering, joketelling, or rousing of whomever comes within earshot. Not unlike an excited crowd yelling the slogans of their favorite sports team or politician, the two mimic aggressive battle cries and shouts, usually meant to intimidate one’s opponent or enemy. Their exchange is only disrupted by an impending sound; the approaching footsteps of an authority perhaps ready to tread boldly into the scene, sullying the chalk-white floor with their hefty boots. Anxiety draws nearer—where can these two conspicuous mascots possibly hide? Not far away, but nestled upon a modest hill, a humanoid house-like sculpture breathes quietly, albeit anxiously. Meek and vulnerable, crooning sounds escape this figure as well. Perhaps it too does not want to draw attention to itself from the looming ascendant. Milky Seas explores and challenges the inside/outside barriers of perception between subject and object. Once in-situ, the viewer no longer possesses a passive watchful gaze, but instead becomes integrated into the story as a kind of collective consciousness slips and weaves itself through the gallery space.