This must be metaphysical, because if it’s not, it’s lonely.
Because I often feel a rickety kind of discontent while swimming through the internet. It’s private and cold. A tunnel between forms.
For the purpose of this show, we choose metaphysical.
In this show, Entry For It’s Heaven, It’s Fine, the tender void happens between frames, between isolated points in a timeline that we reproduce in digital story: infinite and infinitely replaceable. It’s the physical space that we couldn’t afford.
OR TELL ME HOW
OR TELL ME HOW | gouache, paper, house paint, tea, turmeric, pomegranate, ink on laminate wood cards | cards measure 3" x 2.75” installation dimensions variable
hemp, plastic, orange peels, hair, lentils, bamboo, rice, ink, pills, water| 8' x 9' | Flux Factory, Long Island City, NY | Spring 2010
SOME QUIET ADVICE
Curation & Display | Saunders Green House | Dryden, NY | 2012
"Some Quiet Advice" was an international exhibition of seventy photographs that I curated, fabricated the framing for, and installed. These images were selected from an online archive of photographs that I had curated for three years prior to this show.
The selected photographs meditated on ideas of temporal distance and questioned ideas of stable citation. The artists who participated in this show were strangers to me and yet, through the donations of their photographs to this project, they proposed a kind of relational aesthetic that may have temporarily troubled the placelessness of the internet.
Public Installation in Ithaca, New York | paper, ink, graphite, plastic, hemp chord | dimensions variable | 2011
I am interested in language because it wounds or seduces me. -Roland Barthes
This public project involved the physical dissipation of thirty-four love letters that were placed in transparent bags filled with creek water and tied along the chipped green railing of a canal. It was both lovely and strange to watch the words that used to both “seduce and wound me," dissolve, sometimes lifting in ribbons of ink, so calmly. After a week of watching people examine and sometimes attemp to read the letters, I walked down the canal in the dark, stabbing each bag with a pin— the letters were no longer so potent or the mourning was over.
TORN MAP HOUSE
"Torn Map House" was a week-long installation and transaction that attempted to invert the conventional relationship between audience and site, between my work and site, between myself and site. Both as a fleeting shelter and a studio, the gallery space offered opportunities for public transactions: a tea house, an invitation to draw an onion and place it in a suitcase, the occasion to bring a vessel of some kind and have your portrait taken while holding it, to barter for art, materials, food and books (a take it or leave it system), and to view and take part in performance: sawing the mattress in half, being wrapped in a cocoon of rope and sealing a suitcase with wax.
Throughout the week, I made an effort to be as present in the gallery as possible: burning incense, playing music, drawing my share of onions on a slate tablet, eating and sharing food, reading and writing while seated on a mat on the floor; I practiced yoga, changed my clothing, and placed the peels and casings of clementines and edamame on the window ledge. One of my favorite moments of this show was when alandscape architect came by and adorned the arc of a kiln shelf with lettuce from her lunch in exchange for a necklace I had made from rusted compression stems and copper cable.
If you were to sing to me right now about the space between, it would certainly be enough.
Tjaden Gallery, Cornell University, Ithaca, NY | Fall 2009