There is a desire for things to follow a path. A box to be marked, a trail to be finished, a gold star to be had. This work is in regards to the realization that there are no gold stars, only golden moments, and people, and experiences. They are not so solid as to be gold. They are more of a shimmer, a breath, something that simply cannot be held. It can however be felt and experienced. It can be remembered. But the remembering will change it, alter it, turn it into something else. A residue however, will remain. The accumulation of the residue will cause the shift.
The beautiful residue, the painful residue, the shameful residue, the loving residue, the vulnerability and breakthrough residue. Layer by layer, the shimmer builds up. Creating something that wasn’t there before, but won’t entirely be there after.
This work is in reaction to the realization that the top of the mountain holds nothing, everything and also a marker of time. And reaching the top once, does not mean that one gets to hold onto the lesson forever. There will be traversing of the mountain for the rest of one's life. So one has to make their own gold star, and enjoy the path. Because the top is not the end, it is just a different view. Herein lies the paradox, and this is where this work resides.
These pieces are an examination of interaction, an attempt at understanding what it is to inhabit an existence that is at once so bodily and also utterly of the mind. This work is an investigation of the human experience. Something that creates an ability to continually embody the paradox: strong/fragile, protected/vulnerable, scared/strong, scarred/beautiful. Which is in and of itself something of an anti-ability. Humans are the ultimate living paradox.
I circle notions of home, flesh and boundary to address feelings of separation and interaction. In many ways this work is an attempt at making peace with the paradoxes and polarities that are ever present for humans in general, and also painfully present in our political climate.
The frozen gesture and movement of the wood, metal and clay through space is a way of tracking a lifeline ~ not on one’s hand, but through the constant mental gymnastics and zen acceptance of the fact that we can never see what’s coming.
Growth - particularly for humans - is such a cyclical and complicated space to inhabit. And in these times it feels that this is the only certainty to move toward. That growth must happen, it will often hurt, be heartbreaking and beautiful, completely clumsy with moments of intense grace.
The beautiful residue, the painful residue, the shameful residue, the loving residue, the vulnerability and breakthrough residue. Layer by layer, the shimmer builds up. Creating something that wasn’t there before, but won’t entirely be there after.
This work is in reaction to the realization that the top of the mountain holds nothing, everything and also a marker of time. And reaching the top once, does not mean that one gets to hold onto the lesson forever. There will be traversing of the mountain for the rest of one's life. So one has to make their own gold star, and enjoy the path. Because the top is not the end, it is just a different view. Herein lies the paradox, and this is where this work resides.
These pieces are an examination of interaction, an attempt at understanding what it is to inhabit an existence that is at once so bodily and also utterly of the mind. This work is an investigation of the human experience. Something that creates an ability to continually embody the paradox: strong/fragile, protected/vulnerable, scared/strong, scarred/beautiful. Which is in and of itself something of an anti-ability. Humans are the ultimate living paradox.
I circle notions of home, flesh and boundary to address feelings of separation and interaction. In many ways this work is an attempt at making peace with the paradoxes and polarities that are ever present for humans in general, and also painfully present in our political climate.
The frozen gesture and movement of the wood, metal and clay through space is a way of tracking a lifeline ~ not on one’s hand, but through the constant mental gymnastics and zen acceptance of the fact that we can never see what’s coming.
Growth - particularly for humans - is such a cyclical and complicated space to inhabit. And in these times it feels that this is the only certainty to move toward. That growth must happen, it will often hurt, be heartbreaking and beautiful, completely clumsy with moments of intense grace.
