To See Place: Part 1
Performance video, 6:21
The dock for this video was constructed to respond to body weight. In engaging with the object, participants are required to negotiate with one another and the object, brought into intimate relationship with one another and their environment.
The video work To See Place: Part 1 questions how our technologies mediate the way we see our surroundings. The video provides a bird’s-eye view through drone photography alongside the first-person perspective of a personal camera, asserting the importance of both lenses in negotiating the politics of landscape.
To See Place: Part 2
Plaster, monitors, reflective glass, 3-channel audio
15’’x 13’’ x 42’’
To See Place: Part Two thinks through photogrammetry as a technology for archiving place. In this work, photo triangulation modelling software provides a means for documenting three individuals as they remember a shared place they all once lived. Pairing voice and digital holograms, the boxes attempt to create a record of life. In this time of climatic loss they pose important questions about the opportunities and challenges of using technology to create meaningful archives.
Used wood, marine foam, anchors
8’ x 8’ x 4’10’’
Sited on a lake that is shared by both Skowhegan’s residency program and the local Maine town, Common Ground evokes the traditional ice house of the locals while shifting the viewer’s relationship to site, creating something new. At the end of the residency, the work was gifted to a local resident of the lake; their use of the structure continues the story of the work, further threading together these adjacent narratives.
Work for Texas
A series of site-responsive installations and interventions that challenge Texas’ culture and policy around the issue of land ownership and resource use. Expanding from this local context, the works define and investigate the human impulse to claim ownership.
Flag erected in fenced-in abandoned lot
overhead of site
8x8 foot chainlink fence, earth, hardware cloth
3 ’ x 1’6’’ x 4’
Fence gate from the site of the OPEN video, cut into pieces and reformed
40’’ x 60’’
2018 Photographic document of installation in a recently discovered cave at Government State Park. Printed to match actual scale of the space.
Drop ceiling tiles, steel, 2x4s, drywall, molding, vent, electric heater
8’ x 8’ x 2’
In the center of the work there is a hole that leads to a contained compartment. The space inside is warm, heat radiating from the interior. The sensory experience of interacting with the sculpture reflects the vulnerability of engaging with a cave space. The work asks the viewer to trust the structure, contorting their body in order to experience visceral sensation
Cave Part B
Interactive Cave Model
A digital experience of the cave model is paired with the drop-ceiling installation described above. One is a direct visual model of the cave while the other simulates the physical experience of being in a cave. The viewer experiences these two re-creations separately, segmenting a full understanding of the space. Together the works speak to the challenge of fully conveying the visceral experience of interacting with a wild space.
Grounded in CulverScreen, 2x4’s, lenses, Monteray oak tree, birdfeeder
28’ x 18’ x 8’
This installation was created for an abandoned lot in East Austin that was recently bought by a gallery space. The architectural installation, built from screen and lenses, focuses the viewer on the ethics of looking by creating an experience where the viewer is at once the watcher and the watched. Brought through a series of focused and obscured viewpoints, the viewer is led to reflect on how their vantage point affects how and what they see.
The narrative below describes a story from origonal site and its translation into the final work:
The only reason his tent was visible was because it was winter; everything was raw then, exposed. He told me a story about how he came to live there. He said a lot of things, in broken sentences. I was listening with a lens: I was interested in the lot, in its relationship to something about the wild, about ownership, and the gentrification of East Austin. So I mostly heard one story -- it was a story about birds. He told me that before this he lived for years in Zilker Park, as far away as he could and still walk out for beer. He said he liked it back there because it was just him alone, and the birds. He told me one day he got thrown out -- the cops came and dragged him out of his home. He swore it was the birdwatchers. He repeated this part three times. The only reason the cops knew he was there was because of the birdwatchers; they were the only ones ever back there and he didn’t fit their view, so they got rid of him.
Working from this story, I built an installation for the gallery’s lot, looking to animate something of the tension in his words. I was interested in the shared intention of the two opposing parties, both seeking nature as a sanctuary, a space isolated from others. In my work I am interested in the definition of the word “nature” and the implications of its articulation; in his story, the birdwatchers restrict natural to mean a kind of ecological sanctuary, one that has no room for another human body; in this reduction there is an act of violence. The architectural installation, built from screen and lenses, creates an experience where the viewer is at once the watcher and the watched. The circular motion through the work curates a physical and visual restriction, one that does not lead to a culminating moment, but instead acts as a series of focused and obscured viewpoints.
On Looking4’ x 6’ inkjet print
Two cedar waxwings were found dead outside my studio. In an effort to understand them I dissected them fully, separating and labeling each and every part of both birds. The process is recorded here in photograph, each fragment organized and laid out alphabetically. The metric of organization separates the parts from their system. Knowledge of the birds is gained at the cost of losing the complexity of their being; this effort at understanding links intimacy with violence.
MonsonAbandoned house, broom, scraper, drywall, white paint, vinyl flooring, incandescent lights
Monson ME, a post-industrial slate town in Piscataquis County, is in the process of transition. The Libra Foundation has taken the town on as a project, hoping to revive it by establishing an artist residency there. In the last year and a half, the Foundation has bought the majority of the buildings in town, stripped the 1800’s structures down to their bones, and completely remodeled them with ready-made Home Depot products.
In response, as a resident artist there, I took on my own renovation project. I discovered an abandoned house in town that was sinking into the ground, dilapidated and hidden by trees. By cleaning, framing, and filtering the information there, I worked to both delete and maintain the history held in the space. The project stands hidden in town, a critique of the dangers of rapid change.
Video from local Maine news describing the scope of the Libra project in Monson.