My solo exhibition is a culmination of my two-year residency at the LUX Center for the Arts. The show features three bodies of work and is a conversation about connecting with others while navigating who we are, what we are capable of, and how we relate those conclusions to people through everyday interactions. While viewing this work, viewers were invited to consider assumptions of self, internalized notions of identity, and how these ideas and relationships might be preserved or changed over time.
This collection of urns has been assembled with the addition of found ceramic objects foraged primarily from estate sales, thoughtfully broken to retain certain features or imagery, and reassembled into new works. Each piece, carefully combined with a mix of items collected throughout decades by strangers, challenges the perception of what is “whole” and “perfect”. This work is a continued exploration of how parts of ourselves and loved ones become attached to objects through memory and sentiments and how connections to others are preserved after death or separation.
As a person living with a disability, I confront assumptions about myself almost daily. Some of them I make, others are made by people I encounter. While I think people with disabilities have unique perspectives on this, I don’t think this is a problem exclusive to our community. After eight years of teaching in art classrooms, I’ve come to the realization that making art is often a humbling and stressful experience. So much so, that many of us easily decide we are not capable of doing it. We tell ourselves we are not artists - we were born without “it”.
This installation is comprised of slip-cast pieces “finished” through a series of community events by contributors of all ages. Participants were invited to add anything they wanted to the piece to challenge notions of ability they may have made about themselves and to take a moment to create something without being concerned with the outcome.
Growing up with my grandmother, I remember her knick-knacks taking up various corners of the house, situated on hanging shelves, in curio cabinets, and on window ledges. Family and friends would buy her figurines and angels and the collection grew larger as I grew older. Upon her death, the collection was passed to me. So much of her is a part of who I am, it seemed fitting to create a new object with the pieces of her in an effort to preserve the parts of her that surrounded me in my childhood.
Originally starting off as a social media mug challenge, the Sculptural Mug Series became a months-long project. Comments left on various social platforms were selected to challenge the way I thought about the utility and functionality in a ceramic cup. This engagement gave viewers influence over the series and provided me with alternate ways of working with ceramics and language.
This work — made to be used, held, and experienced — started as a conversation between the wheel, the clay, and me. These pieces aren’t fussy or formal; I make them with attention to the moment. Because I often film the making, the process tends to supersede the outcome. These are everyday pieces.
