New Artist statement
So, I think I'm done. I actually decided not to write a new intro so tell me if thats a good idea, will you? I added the final piece I was going to talk about and a (very short) conclusion. Hopefully it all makes sense!
*wipes brow*
Much of my work revolves around the intersection of natural and man-made, order and chaos. My work also deals with issues of growth or decay and what happens when either goes to the extreme. It becomes a force which evolves outside our will.
In the studio, I create a reciprocal relationship while working with specific processes and materials. This is an open ended approach where these materials and processes are given authority in the final piece. My interests, ideas and concepts are born out of this studio practice. I’m engaged with the sense of discovery that comes with working with unknown variables.
Essentially, though I enter my studio with a concept in mind, I allow the materials and processes to guide me and to perhaps distort the original vision I had. My art and the process I engage in to create it are metaphors, always evolving. I use my art to explore my feelings on my personal history and it acts as a fulcrum for my emotions.
For Abiotrophy, the work itself is a metaphor for the body, health, and age. It is woven in a controlled manner. It is approximately adult human sized, allowing the viewer to approach it in much the same way one would see another person. It has varying kinds of fibre in it, from white synthetics, to unbleached cotton. The fibres can be thick or thin, strong or fragile. This talks about how we, as humans, are created both with through our human experience in the world as well as through our natural inclination. It is looking at the idea of nature versus nurture. It asks the question: “How much does our world around us affect who we are?”
After weaving, I heat treat the yards of cloth. I do not control how the heat melts the fibres, allowing them to become brittle, break, or even shrivel entirely. Heat distressing the fibres allows me to break down the rigid grid structure of woven cloth. The heat creates texture as it melts or shrinks the synthetics and puckers the natural fibres. This process is akin to the wear and tear of daily life, and of illness, or emotional distress. The top of the first panel is intact, and while the fringe edge is raw, it is still holding together. It very quickly degrades as it progresses down the panel, holes develop and the order of the weaving is lost. Fibres which had been strong previously are charred and breaking. As the viewer progresses through to the last of the three panels, the weaving is barely holding together. The synthetic fibres are almost all gone, and without touching it, one can see it is fragile and uncomfortable. The synthetics have not just melted; they have formed spikes and shards of plastic which jut out from the piece. Yet, the cloth is still holding together. This is partly because the foundation of the work holds strong. There is still integrity to the cotton.
To me, this speaks of weakness and strength. This piece exemplifies that if one has a good foundation, one can make it through anything. The cloth may be damaged and ragged but it still remains a cloth. This piece talks of the effects of daily life, building up of time, of relationships and all that which we go through. These things can both build you up, and wear you down. I use this method of accumulation and degradation as a kind of therapy to the mind and senses.
Parallax is a series of small hand woven baskets, made from a metal frame and woollen yarn. These are twined loosely, and placed in a salt solution. The way the salt grows cannot be controlled. I could add other substances such as dyes or other matter, changing the structure of the crystal, but it will grow on the surface in different ways. This allows me to let go of control.
The salt grows in crystalline forms on the wool, creating geometric structures across the mouth, or around the sides and rendering the basket useless. The salt means that one cannot lift the basket without harming themselves, or the basket, and that one cannot place anything inside it either. This is a metaphor for illness, especially cancers, which originates as a natural process of the body. It is cell growth gone out of our control. These cells can damage nearby tissue, and spread throughout the body. These baskets, a useful commodity represent the body and its functions. The salt represents a process which, on its own, is useful and necessary but unchecked can harm, impair or otherwise be a detriment.
Parallax is an intensely personal exploration of illness for me. It looks at something I have had to watch from the outside and allows me to analyze my emotional reaction from a detached point of view. I use it as a way of learning about and investigating my emotions.
In Geocentric, I use a different method to explore my emotion. I go to the other end of the spectrum of fragility, creating a tapestry with weight and strength. Geocentric was an exploration in daily mood. In this work, the imagery is vaguely continental, as though peering at a map, or of a substance falling from above into red liquid. The piece invites the view to touch, to feel the planes of colour. The piece does not lie flat, instead rising up like foothills.
This work was made using yarn I spun and then dyed. The yarn was spun based upon my mood and any tensions I may have carried from the day. Some of the yarn is spun tightly and thinly, others are spun loose and fluffy. Sometimes both would happen in a very short section of the yarn. Spinning is a meditative process, allowing the mind to wander and allows me to work through my stresses.
This piece is, in essence, extremely egocentric. Tapestry is a process of constant decision making, and my decisions were based on how I was feeling at the time. I had no drawing, or references to take inspiration from. The piece began during a very tense period in my life, and therefore, the top of the piece is choppy and doesn't flow freely. There were few blends, and little texture. I tried as much I could to control the yarn and maintain the same kind of feel across the tapestry, much like I was trying to control my life. As I progress through the piece, I progressed through the issues I was having and the work loosened up, nubbling in places and gaining more texture. The colours expanded, and brightened. The piece has an organic hem, suggesting movement, or a continuation.
In all my work, I explore my feelings regarding my personal history, the world around me and try to find a way of coming to terms with a world I cannot control. I juxtapose order and control with chaos and chance. In a way, I create microcosms of the world and the events in my life in my art as a way of putting them into perspective. This satisfies my thirst for control, while still allowing me the ability to grow and change.
*wipes brow*
Much of my work revolves around the intersection of natural and man-made, order and chaos. My work also deals with issues of growth or decay and what happens when either goes to the extreme. It becomes a force which evolves outside our will.
In the studio, I create a reciprocal relationship while working with specific processes and materials. This is an open ended approach where these materials and processes are given authority in the final piece. My interests, ideas and concepts are born out of this studio practice. I’m engaged with the sense of discovery that comes with working with unknown variables.
Essentially, though I enter my studio with a concept in mind, I allow the materials and processes to guide me and to perhaps distort the original vision I had. My art and the process I engage in to create it are metaphors, always evolving. I use my art to explore my feelings on my personal history and it acts as a fulcrum for my emotions.
For Abiotrophy, the work itself is a metaphor for the body, health, and age. It is woven in a controlled manner. It is approximately adult human sized, allowing the viewer to approach it in much the same way one would see another person. It has varying kinds of fibre in it, from white synthetics, to unbleached cotton. The fibres can be thick or thin, strong or fragile. This talks about how we, as humans, are created both with through our human experience in the world as well as through our natural inclination. It is looking at the idea of nature versus nurture. It asks the question: “How much does our world around us affect who we are?”
After weaving, I heat treat the yards of cloth. I do not control how the heat melts the fibres, allowing them to become brittle, break, or even shrivel entirely. Heat distressing the fibres allows me to break down the rigid grid structure of woven cloth. The heat creates texture as it melts or shrinks the synthetics and puckers the natural fibres. This process is akin to the wear and tear of daily life, and of illness, or emotional distress. The top of the first panel is intact, and while the fringe edge is raw, it is still holding together. It very quickly degrades as it progresses down the panel, holes develop and the order of the weaving is lost. Fibres which had been strong previously are charred and breaking. As the viewer progresses through to the last of the three panels, the weaving is barely holding together. The synthetic fibres are almost all gone, and without touching it, one can see it is fragile and uncomfortable. The synthetics have not just melted; they have formed spikes and shards of plastic which jut out from the piece. Yet, the cloth is still holding together. This is partly because the foundation of the work holds strong. There is still integrity to the cotton.
To me, this speaks of weakness and strength. This piece exemplifies that if one has a good foundation, one can make it through anything. The cloth may be damaged and ragged but it still remains a cloth. This piece talks of the effects of daily life, building up of time, of relationships and all that which we go through. These things can both build you up, and wear you down. I use this method of accumulation and degradation as a kind of therapy to the mind and senses.
Parallax is a series of small hand woven baskets, made from a metal frame and woollen yarn. These are twined loosely, and placed in a salt solution. The way the salt grows cannot be controlled. I could add other substances such as dyes or other matter, changing the structure of the crystal, but it will grow on the surface in different ways. This allows me to let go of control.
The salt grows in crystalline forms on the wool, creating geometric structures across the mouth, or around the sides and rendering the basket useless. The salt means that one cannot lift the basket without harming themselves, or the basket, and that one cannot place anything inside it either. This is a metaphor for illness, especially cancers, which originates as a natural process of the body. It is cell growth gone out of our control. These cells can damage nearby tissue, and spread throughout the body. These baskets, a useful commodity represent the body and its functions. The salt represents a process which, on its own, is useful and necessary but unchecked can harm, impair or otherwise be a detriment.
Parallax is an intensely personal exploration of illness for me. It looks at something I have had to watch from the outside and allows me to analyze my emotional reaction from a detached point of view. I use it as a way of learning about and investigating my emotions.
In Geocentric, I use a different method to explore my emotion. I go to the other end of the spectrum of fragility, creating a tapestry with weight and strength. Geocentric was an exploration in daily mood. In this work, the imagery is vaguely continental, as though peering at a map, or of a substance falling from above into red liquid. The piece invites the view to touch, to feel the planes of colour. The piece does not lie flat, instead rising up like foothills.
This work was made using yarn I spun and then dyed. The yarn was spun based upon my mood and any tensions I may have carried from the day. Some of the yarn is spun tightly and thinly, others are spun loose and fluffy. Sometimes both would happen in a very short section of the yarn. Spinning is a meditative process, allowing the mind to wander and allows me to work through my stresses.
This piece is, in essence, extremely egocentric. Tapestry is a process of constant decision making, and my decisions were based on how I was feeling at the time. I had no drawing, or references to take inspiration from. The piece began during a very tense period in my life, and therefore, the top of the piece is choppy and doesn't flow freely. There were few blends, and little texture. I tried as much I could to control the yarn and maintain the same kind of feel across the tapestry, much like I was trying to control my life. As I progress through the piece, I progressed through the issues I was having and the work loosened up, nubbling in places and gaining more texture. The colours expanded, and brightened. The piece has an organic hem, suggesting movement, or a continuation.
In all my work, I explore my feelings regarding my personal history, the world around me and try to find a way of coming to terms with a world I cannot control. I juxtapose order and control with chaos and chance. In a way, I create microcosms of the world and the events in my life in my art as a way of putting them into perspective. This satisfies my thirst for control, while still allowing me the ability to grow and change.