The sculptural work of Erin Vincent mines the stuff of utility to a labour-intensive extreme. Using or re-using refined materials that speak to “making” — straight pins, tar paper, wood, paint, gold — Vincent interrupts customary function while maintaining a lingering consideration of their form in context, often to paradoxical effect: thousands of pins pierce a textile’s surface to form a luxuriant blanket, while nuisance burs are cast in gold.  Meticulous labour and obsessive repetition are at the core of her process, as is an often wry twist to the idea of function itself — be it the originating object or its constituent material — to produce tactile,  yet often unsettling forms.