Limonaia
A poetic reinterpretation of historical greenhouses, Limonaia, reunites the polyseme of “conservatory” as distinct spaces for musicians and plants into a single place of respite.
LIFE Newsweave
Newsweavings (series excerpt)
handwoven paper yarn and 1960’s LIFE magazines 11×14” (ongoing)
2018-2020
Ever present news cycles can imply everything is new, fresh, urgent. In working with LIFE magazine material from the 60’s and 70’s ongoing sagas of athletes protesting institutional racism and climate change concerns bring the cyclical reality of the news into view, in weaving them in to fresh cloth the old news is remade, illegible, but the same material.
Cyma
Cyma was created to double as artwork and acoustic treatments inside Pulp’s two recording studio spaces. The visual design takes cues from Brian Eno’s intentions with ambient music in that it “induces calm and a place to think.” The work recedes when artists need to focus and provides a place for the eye to alight when needed.
mobilis in mobili
Mobilis in Mobili, a large-scale interactive installation, stands as a handbook for the digital castaway longing for connection. The project consists of five large hemispheric- basins that fill a dark space lined with hanging screens of dark-blue silk gauze. The white plaster-cement basins are filled with light and water, the surface is veiled with a floating layer of indigo-blue oil resembling the cosmos. The surface of the oil is shared with wooden rings that hold back the oil to act as circular “portholes” to view collages and text within the basins. The invitation is extended beyond merely looking, to also touch and direct the rings.
After Image Collaboration
After Image is an experimental collaborative work between choreographer, Joanna Mendl Shaw, and visual artist, Erin Curry, and dancers at the University of Florida addressing the territory between dance and drawing for 2016 SwampDance Fest. The content of the performance is informed by S.A. Andrée failed arctic expedition via hot air balloon in 1897. Appropriate to the collaborative process are intertwined themes of terra incognita, navigation, hubris, risk, and failure where the stage/drawing and dancers/markmakers engage in dialogue where one cannot by left unmarked by the other.
So Far
"So Far" is a phrase that can be two opposing things. On one hand it means "up to this point" and on the other it relays something in the distance. Whenever we think we we have landed, we have ever more to explore. Within the space of this room whose edges are softened by silk panels, a shadow-horizon bounces us back into the place we’ve landed. I invite you to gaze into the illuminated craters veiled by a layer of tinted white oil. Floating “lenses” allow you to view the grid of the mapmaker and fragments of collages below. We gaze into craters left after some mysterious impact. In these craters the images have missing parts, stories with hollowed out cores.
So Far installation
stained fabric, plaster basins, water and tinted Oil, wooden rings, mylar drawing stretched silk, transparency collages, LED lights, projected animation
maybe we are the door
“maybe we are the door” is an interactive sculpture with plaster basin, liquid, wooden rings, light. Title and drawing text drawn from the hidden text in my junk mail folder
the impossibility of indexicality
Intermittent Transmission
Static I, II, III
freckle constellation
The movement and presence of stars are material we’ve use for millennia to mark our place in the world and navigate by. During a research trip to Ireland two years ago I visited the derelict home of my great-grandfather. As I travelled through the country, I found myself surrounded by people with the same abundance of freckles as I have. Our chaotic skins seemed to make up for the lack of stars so often obscured by the cloud cover common there. This abundance tied us to the landscape, and in response, I photographed my own freckles and made a paper map of them, interleaving pressed wildflowers as constellations (Figure 8). The paper maps hang above head-level to replace the naturally found drawing of stars in the sky with constellations of freckles. Thus I tied my inherited physical traits to the landscape of my ancestors.
what I might have said
The drawings in what I might have said respond to a paper origami balloon I kept in my pocket over several weeks. The paper balloon functions as vessel for breath, as well as potential container for words and phrases that cannot be adequately articulated. The air in them becomes pregnant with possibility. The drawings borrow their compositions from the creases left in an unfolded balloon. The marks found in each panel are systemized codifications of text from an old book never read. The marks become asemic, suggesting story and cadence, but denying specifics. They abstract into constellations, map-like and star-like at once.
vessel for the unspoken
![News [wherever the wind blows us]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/61804ed268c8e54d81da0c9c/1635802014148-484XOWW85VI5E9AMERMB/image-asset.jpeg)
News [wherever the wind blows us]
writ on silken seas
“Writ on Silken Seas” is a sculptural tribute to the labor of waiting. Hand-dyed silk stretched over bamboo rods and then smocked with sewing pins to make an irregular (binary) pattern on the surface. Next to the growing pile of framed silk are more materials, more silk, more bamboo, pins glitter in a wooden bowl. As a “performance in stasis” the maker is not present, it’s not clear if the work is being made or unmade. The labor of writing and the labor of waiting coexist in my retelling of the story of Penelope weaving and unweaving her cloth while hoping for the safe return of Odysseus—perpetual rewritten love letters never sent, edited and re-edited ad nauseam.