There is a thread, one end, strung, wrapped, severed, sewn whole again, seemingly both sure and unsure of my affinities, and the other end buried in a bulky spool yet to be cast. The impressionable thread grasps for any contact that mends the gap in language where we might be failed.
My work is a compilation of and response to comfort, connections, and experiences I’ve lived. The only way I know how to make sense of these impalpable notions, is to wrangle and sort them into tactile objects. I often adopt and recreate items exhausted of their utility, which provides a shell to be filled with new meaning. The mimicked materials that are noted in my work reference items discarded through practical use like soap and exerted energy or through loss of necessity like used matches and Band-Aids. Through careful assembly of these items, onto vessels, familiar in their reference to function, these ghosts of the mundane are able to speak measures where language has limited me to a pondering silence.
The aforementioned thread that binds my affinities is referenced in the making of my objects through their attachment. Tape, a material of temporary fixture, is made permanent through the bonding and firing of clay. Other items are fixed to the form temporarily, the same way a charm bracelet performs.
I employ the vessel as a stand-in for the body because of their shared vocabulary and fellowship. The permanence of clay when fired is conducive to making pots which are intended to come in contact with bodies, yielding a familial bond. I use the language of pots to set guidelines and boundaries in which my examination of moments may be arranged with proportional and perspective shifts while working in the provided space, similar to that of living in a body. My contemplations lie in the contrast between the stability of a pot and the precariously attached replicas that are products of extensive labor in an effort to snatch the fleeting and the unnamable.