I am interested in objects and actions on the brink of utility. I make things that are not made otherwise, because they are not useful enough, profitable enough, or because they are bad ideas -but in their wily ways, I find them compelling.
A lot of what I do is wearable furniture, I made a pair of pants that allow someone to fall asleep anywhere. In my world, the functions of objects have become very slippery, and some of the things I create have been really pushing it, like flashcards for practicing eye contact. My Eye Contact Flashcards are 3x5” index cards with a different set of eyes on every card. Unlike regular flashcards, there is no “correct” answer. A sense of knowing cannot be qualified. They are suspended in an interstice, between utility and uselessness, gazing uncannily back at the viewer.
After several wearable furniture projects, I realized I devised a new relationship between objects and my body: a performative alterity that no longer needed the furniture. I obfuscated my body and posed with various objects. I found a green screen suit on the internet. I threw myself away. My work is influenced by artists who perform with objects, especially: Adrian Piper, Erwin Wurm, and Claude Cahun.
Recently, I was inspired by a horrible tech entrepreneurial podcast to create fake companies: The Hat Purse Corporation of America, and The Microfiber Towel Suit. I advertised them both on the internet. In my Microfiber Towel Suit, covered head-to-toe in blue towels, I performed a cleaning of a gallery, becoming intimate with its surfaces. In large part, my art practice is a critique of solutionism (the belief that all problems have benign technological solutions) and narratives of disruption (the idea that inventions should displace everything we currently use.)
Reality is curated by options.
Our bodies are positioned in the world around us. We are human; we are animated. Our surroundings curtail our perception. Technology, I have found, frustrates our impulse control (our ability to control our behaviors and emotions.) I organized a No Phone Day, recently, a performance where people left their phones at home for 5 hours, abandoning a very useful object. During that performance, I thought about the repertoire (Diana Taylor): an embodied knowledge attained through experience; a knowing that cannot be quantified; a knowing that cannot be contained by a record or an archive.
I think about the fact that what all art has in common is distance; even haptic touch has a delay between neurons and the brain; even matter is mostly empty space. If we are far apart, are we alone together?
I find myself deferred.
I wonder what it could mean for us to experience the world differently. How is our perception articulated? I want it to waver and reconfigure. Is it possible for my spatial orientation to shift? If I make a Glass Ceiling real, will it change the one in my mind? I hope, by performing reality, we could unhinge our subjectivity.