The mountains of treasures that had been accumulating in my studio were starting to get on my nerves. People make jokes about hoarding and I nervously laugh off their comments. I have so many things piled up around me that I can’t even begin to list the expanse of what is there. It began affecting the way I work, or couldn’t work because of all the visual and physical stuff. It was time to say goodbye. All of the ephemera was originally collected because I was inherently drawn to it and knew that I could use it for something. Uniting everything in color was my way of spending a little individual time with each prize, and showing the objects as the overwhelming mass they had become.
Going our separate ways was hard. In the end, we went on a long walk and said goodbye by the lake. We swore we’d keep in touch, but I think we both knew the truth. It's time to move on. Walking away was hard. I kept putting it off, trying to spend more time together. I came back the next day to check on you. But you were gone.
Mixed media, multi media, pepto bismal pink paint, 2015.
I want to bear it all. It’s the tugging down of my shirt, the hiking up of my pants, and cutting off of circulation from my socks. I bet you didn’t know someone could be too fat for those. Sometimes I’m afraid of chairs and avoid sitting because I’m terrified it will turn to splinters.
When I’m embarrassed about something I usually tell absolutely everyone about it. Laughing at myself first, means you can’t. I finally allowed myself to feel uncomfortable By doing so I’m attempting to remove the power you might have used to ridicule me.
I feel awkward. I hope you feel the same way.
Multi media, mixed media, glitter, 2015.
I hide dirty dishes in the cupboard when boys come calling, take baby powder showers, binge eat McDonald’s, pick my nose in public, and fear dying alone -with only my hoard of cat figurines to discover my body. In beautifying these universal truths and visually whittling them down to a handful of components, I feel they become something you can laugh about, and own up to.
Bad habits fester and we try to keep them hidden. Luggage, containers, and boxes all have one thing in common. They are meant to organize, store, and hide. But “you never know what someone else’s baggage really is”. We all contain hidden mysteries. Maybe it’s something that embarrasses you, stirs confusion, a secret you’ve never told anyone but your diary about, or unhealthy tendencies that keep perpetuating themselves. What’s funny is that even after acknowledging these qualities, what have I done to change them?
Mixed media, baggage, 2014.
The Control Panel
The beginning of grad school brought with it a lot of emotions. Ranging from excited...to terrified. The Control Panel was the culmination of those feelings. Knobs could be cranked up obnoxiously, or down....to be forgotten. Gauges were constantly taking inventory of emotions. Jars were brimming with ingredients of influence and design elements. Golden circuit boards made up the blood and guts. Surveillance cameras voyeuristic-ally watching. Emergency solutions could be found beneath the glass. A hammer at the ready. Sometimes you just need a friend, so call them.