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My time carving connection entailed discovering process and studio post-grad. Moving to a new city consumed me with thoughts about how overwhelmingly seen I feel in public spaces. And not in the validating “girls-girl” way. But rather in “the gaze” way. Staying home, closing the blinds, finding comfort in hiding: these became my coping rituals. But I hate hiding so much that it comes with this terrible scratching pain deep inside that tears.
I started to think about public private space, of not/seeing/being seen. Privacy screens on windows telling you someone is inside and would like some space. Changing room drapery pretending to hold the protection of a closed door.
In my time hiding out, I dreamed and crocheted. A yellow blob became a wide-brimmed hat. A hat? Okay, we are making a hat now. What if I put a shower curtain on it? Made it a portable tent? A bee keeper’s see keeper? Now it has eyes, for the seeing of course. If I can see you, can you see me?
I started to think about public private space, of not/seeing/being seen. Privacy screens on windows telling you someone is inside and would like some space. Changing room drapery pretending to hold the protection of a closed door.
In my time hiding out, I dreamed and crocheted. A yellow blob became a wide-brimmed hat. A hat? Okay, we are making a hat now. What if I put a shower curtain on it? Made it a portable tent? A bee keeper’s see keeper? Now it has eyes, for the seeing of course. If I can see you, can you see me?
I picked up colored pencils and began automatic drawings. I started to see where the paper liked a color, and then I drew darker and heavier and scratched and clawed. Forms came up and, wait - I think I see a little creature in a cave? Is that me? Am I just a little one passing through? All of a sudden I was making this drawing a creature in my own reality, brushing out yarn to serve as its fur and wondering when it would start to walk.
I looked at old journals and sketches and began to build up a form I wanted to make years ago. A sharp fingered hand, scary and funny and charming (to me, and you? Maybe?) But now it wants a ponytail and I can’t say no to something so demanding. Photoshopping with AI can help for the time being until this thing grows its own hair.
Exploring these spaces where materials, forms, imagery tells me what they want has always been the crust of my practice, but the filling is the environment I’m in. Right now, I am curled up like a field mouse listening with intensity to the neighbors bring their trash bins in from the curb. What’s next is asking more questions and seeing what or who talks back. Could it be you?
Oh, before you go! I found this note yesterday from someone calling themself a “dream listener.” From what I understand, it seems they live off of dreams and have been in desperate need of them. People are not dreaming as much as they used to, it seems. Would you mind sending me some of your dreams so I could feed them?
Exploring these spaces where materials, forms, imagery tells me what they want has always been the crust of my practice, but the filling is the environment I’m in. Right now, I am curled up like a field mouse listening with intensity to the neighbors bring their trash bins in from the curb. What’s next is asking more questions and seeing what or who talks back. Could it be you?
Oh, before you go! I found this note yesterday from someone calling themself a “dream listener.” From what I understand, it seems they live off of dreams and have been in desperate need of them. People are not dreaming as much as they used to, it seems. Would you mind sending me some of your dreams so I could feed them?
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