What Are You Really Looking At? Arlene Rush Wants You to Wonder

If you’re not familiar with Arlene Rush’s work, let me paint you a picture: sculpture, identity, perception, and some shattered glass. What I love about her work is that it makes you think—sometimes uncomfortably so. Take her Headsseries, for example. She strips the human head down to its most basic form, forcing us to confront what we actually see when we look at a face. The result is an art of contradictions: delicate but tough, eerie yet inviting, universal yet profoundly personal.

I caught up with Arlene over Zoom, where we covered everything from her work to the existential horror of New York real estate. The takeaway? Her sculptures are mirrors, reflecting back questions about how we see ourselves and each other.

Her Headsseries is a masterclass in reduction. These faces lack gender, race, or identity markers. Modeled after her own head, she sands away anything personal, leaving a form that could belong to anyone—or everyone. They are both deeply individual and entirely universal, a paradox that sits at the core of her work. A lot of what Arlene explores is the connectedness of all human beings—the way we are fundamentally the same, yet undeniably unique. Some of her heads have eyes that follow you around the room (equal parts mesmerizing and unsettling), while others are split, mirrored, or entombed in shattered glass. They exist in a liminal space between self and collective, reinforcing the idea that identity is at once deeply personal and shared across humanity.

Material plays a huge role in their effect. Resin, gold leaf, ghostly whites—each surface adds another layer of meaning. Arlene’s Buddhist practice informs this approach. She sees perception as a trickster; we think we see reality, but really, we see only our version of it. By stripping away recognizable features, she asks: What is identity? A set of physical traits? A cultural construct? A fleeting moment? Or something completely intangible?

What I find most compelling is that her work isn’t just about sculpting forms—it’s about letting them fall apart. Some pieces degrade over time. Others drip and melt like wax caught mid-collapse. Nothing lasts forever—not even the face in your mirror.

That dripping effect is a signature. In her hands, it can mean anything—destruction, purification, sensuality. Some heads seem to be dissolving into thin air, others appear mid-melt. It’s all about what’s slipping away, what remains, and how we define the space between.

Among her many head-based works, Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs stands out. Eight white heads in a line, but only one has open eyes. The rest hover somewhere between sleep and awakening. It’s eerie. It’s poetic. It plays with light in a way that makes the whole thing feel alive.

What makes Arlene’s work so cool is that it refuses to hand you easy answers. Instead, it asks: What do you think you’re looking at? And why? Some pieces shift and transform as you move around them. Others seem to be one thing and turn out to be another. It’s all about perspective—both literal and philosophical.

And if all of this sounds heavy, don’t worry—there’s a playfulness to her work, too. She’s not here to lecture you. She’d rather let you stand there, head tilted like a confused dog, until something clicks.