Laying in a pile of cold wet clay sucks the heat from my body, turning my lips purple
My work wrestles with endurance and relief through movement and the transformation of matter
Sensations are the gateway into my practice and working with the elements is the core.
The clay bodies contact my body and absorb into my system
Movement builds heat and the clay forms a tight second skin, tugging my hair
Followed by submerging my body in hot water- the relief of a trash can hot-tub
Cold shocks and comforting reliefs
This is a story of a woman
Who’s dancing on the edges of growth
And pulling at ancestral threads that dangle before me
As we live among the ashes of our ancestors
Through making, I mold root systems that sprout new traditions
Relating to the meshing of art and life
What happens when I build a consistent Yoga practice and call it research?
What kinds of transformations and expansions are possible through performance?
How many paths can I enter to experience & understand levels of embodiment?
How capable am I of giving invisible aspects of self a physical existence?
What rituals have been lost? & what rituals do I want to create?
What aspects of myself need to be preserved, deconstructed, and generated?
Through fitting material with my body
I mourn past selves and memories
While celebrating the rewilding of self
I am pulled from my bed and brought to the studio to expand upon notions of the bed.
After sharing a bed with someone for years, I felt compelled to build my own bed when I found myself in a new place, sleeping alone. This bed was intended to be a healing device, a space for development, comfort, warmth, dreams and rejuvenation.
I questioned what would happen if clay absorbed into my skin throughout the night
I carried and pounded red clay into the shape of a bed
Craving intimacy with the earth and myself
Labor brought warmth
I watered the bed
& when I laid down
The cold clay was soothing
For a moment in time
Triple my weight, the wet mass of earth sucked the heat from my body
Until physically shook
I felt the mud’s dominance over my body
Fabrics performed as protector
I didn’t really sleep
I Sleep Alone was a durational performance, installation and painting. Reusing the clay from the bed, I created a bed for a bone-dry vessel, exceeding my weight, to nest in. Sticks protruded from the body, acting as thorns do on a cactus. Fabric from my past self and loved ones were knotted and hung acting as a forcefield. I went to the gallery every day for two weeks to water the bed of clay. Vibrancy exists through wetness and the smell of wet earth dripping radiated throughout the space. I went into the space late at night, stripped down, painted my body with iron wash, pressing myself against the cold white wall, ran and danced through the space.
As ceramics requires care
I throw my body into the material in hopes to care for myself as I do the work
I am intrigued by ecology, the interconnection between all beings and things and how we are affected.
Plants radiate a force that is undeniable, releasing the same chemical that bonds mother and child, I feel compelled to surround myself with nature and anchor my work in this healing practice.
Allowing the environment to enter, moves the work into the realm of the ephemeral. As I watch the work disappear and decay with time
Ceramics acts as Earth’s bones and concretizes a moment in time
My idea of a vessel has evolved to be a place that is activated by my body and where my energy is spilled into.
I explore ways to sanctify space and examine innate aspects of self, while performing a variety of personas, continuously building my identity and space to project it into
Physicality is a healing experience– a vehicle for transformation