"...an unsettling display of dirty Lilliputian-sized clothing by Larry Calkins. (...) There is something vaguely aberrant in his soiled doll-size scale that suggests psychological truths about childhood and memory."
Frances DeVouno, Artweek, June 29, 2001
my little gypsy friend, 1995, 28 x 17
factory maid’s lament, 2012. 24 x 15
"At MIA Gallery, Calkins' poignant little flattened muslin dresses, hung on minimalist armatures, seemed dreamy, even historical, as though someone had dug them out of an old cedar chest that had been left forgotten for a hundred years in a prairie attic." Robin Updike, Seattle Times art critic, March 3, 1998
sisters and aunts, 1995, 31 x 121 x 7
crow, 1995, 48 9 x 4
i saw your face in a window yesterday i saw you walking on a busy street were we ever friends? you and your limp do you still have it?
saint joan, 1997, 59 x 30 x 9.5
merrylegs, 2000, 47 x 25 x 14
left: your plow has dulled, old man the furrows waver left and right
your mule sags in the middle he's long in the tooth like you
keep plowing old man plant that corn feed those cows
pulling down the old trail he goes. creaking wheels mumble in the dusk the quiet child in a universe very small.
"supper's ready, come eat" she calls. the toy horse gets left behind to rust.
Dr.MInefierld’s horse of good intentions, 2001, ca 40 x 36 x 8
"On walls and free-standing platforms. one form dominates: that of a simple A-line dress with narrow sleeves and a disproportionately long skirt, reminiscent of nineteenth century christening gowns. (...) Father and brother, doll like works with round heads of bandages and beeswax, also wear dresses (....)
...the dress, for Calkins, stands for humanity, not merely a gendered half of it."