sculptural installation and performance at Vicki Myhren Gallery at the University of Denver, Denver, CO

Inhabiting a dome constructed of embroidery hoops, zip ties, and water-soluble plastic I engaged in performance. From within the structure I used a wet fingertip to melt tiny apertures in the center of each water-soluble plastic membrane. After activating each hoop, I identified those that would reflect my silhoutte if the hoops had been mirrors. Beginning with the hoops that would have been my feet, I enlarged each melted aperature. Once the opening was wide enough, I removed a threaded bobbin from a pocket on my abdomen and launched it through the open hole. The tail of the thread remained anchored to my body by a tiny magnet. I repeated this gesture, launching tethered bobbins through corresponding holes, with each hoop that comprised my standing silhouette. When I completed my task, spools littered the floor outside the sculpture. My make-shift shadow was refracted by chance, rather than light. Delicate red threads emanated from my body, order intact, until they departed the structure. On the gallery floor, they rolled, created tangles, charted new paths, and encountered others who may inadvertantly (or intentionally) alter their paths. I was equal parts marionette and mother, simultanuosly protected and vulnerable.

My garment remained in the sculpture for the duration of the exhibition.

Artist statement:

Insects encase themselves for protection, to create a place where metamorphosis can occur. Utilizing their own secretions, they produce raw materials from which they build. For me, the insect is a metaphor for human behavior. Like insects we are defined by the physical inevitability of our cycles of growth and reproduction, as well as our social need for physical labor.

I have explored these parallels by constructing sculptural costumes that encase my body and resemble cocoons, and then further developed these structures through performance. Exploring the concepts of change and transformation I encase myself in a structure that provides both a covering for my body, as well as a site for an activity. My motion is restricted, and I engage in a repeated action that involves the movement of a material from one part of the structure to another. This process alludes to cannibalism, and also imparts ideas of self-sufficiency implicit in such a closed system.

In one work, entitled Loop, I crocheted a cocoon of tubes to envelop my body like a circulatory system. I sucked on one end of the continuous circuit, drawing fluid from the other end of the long tube, anchored in a pouch on my belly. In another, Seep, my dress extended from my body to become a landscape, its perimeter far beyond my reach. I dipped a 12-foot ladle into a trough of water to slowly dissolve the dress from the hem to the bodice.

In these and in all of my works, the elements are constructed through a laborious process of weaving, braiding, or sewing. They are then activated in performance through a similar process of methodical alteration. I share the space intimately with my audience and communicate not only through sight and movement, but also sound and touch. Utilizing temporal materials such as gelatins, fluids, or water-soluble plastics, I speak to the notion of time and change. These are repetitive actions that build and transform a work, like a spider, strand by strand, spinning a web, or a wasp, layer by layer, building a nest.

sculptural installation and performance at the Corcoran Gallery of Art, Washington, DC

A field of disposable surgical caps, stiffened with starch and supported by a monofilament net, filled the Corcoran's grand atrium. Delineated by skylights in the floor, the field referenced a floating swimming pool and revealed a perch-like skirt structure. I began the performance on the perch by erasing a water-soluble ink drawing and then retreated below the surface. From beneath the field I sprayed water into the air, allowing moisture to wilt caps surrounding the perch. As I worked I tugged on the net and manipulated the surface, causing the whole area to tremble. Small gestures were amplified across a great distance, like a spider activating its web.

sculptural installation and performance in the Pinkard Gallery, Maryland Institute College of Art, Baltimore, MD

With a wet fingertip I traced the center of each water-soluble membrane (at my eye level) until the center melted away. When the horizon line of circles was completely activated, I began to sew. Taking two bobbins from each wall pocket, I found the corresponding opening in the sculpture and forced both bobbins through to the other side. I crawled through the opening on the floor in order to retrieve one bobbin. The bobbin was sent back through the adjacent hole, thus completing one stitch. Each passage through the opening was recorded by markers that traced my trajectory. Over time the marks grew more layered and visible. The thread became tangled despite my orderly task. Through repeated gesture, my progress impeded my progress, like a spider getting caught in its own web.

Artist Statement:

Insects encase themselves for protection, to create a place where metamorphosis can occur. Utilizing their own secretions, they produce raw materials from which they build. For me, the insect is a metaphor for human behavior. Like insects we are defined by the physical inevitability of our cycles of growth and reproduction, as well as our social need for physical labor.

I have explored these parallels by constructing sculptural costumes that encase my body and resemble cocoons, and then further developed these structures through performance. Exploring the concepts of change and transformation I encase myself in a structure that provides both a covering for my body, as well as a site for an activity. My motion is restricted, and I engage in a repeated action that involves the movement of a material from one part of the structure to another. This process alludes to cannibalism, and also imparts ideas of self-sufficiency implicit in such a closed system.

In one work, entitled Loop, I crocheted a cocoon of tubes to envelop my body like a circulatory system. I sucked on one end of the continuous circuit, drawing fluid from the other end of the long tube, anchored in a pouch on my belly. In another, Seep, my dress extended from my body to become a landscape, its perimeter far beyond my reach. I dipped a 12-foot ladle into a trough of water to slowly dissolve the dress from the hem to the bodice.

In these and in all of my works, the elements are constructed through a laborious process of weaving, braiding, or sewing. They are then activated in performance through a similar process of methodical alteration. I share the space intimately with my audience and communicate not only through sight and movement, but also sound and touch. Utilizing temporal materials such as gelatins, fluids, or water-soluble plastics, I speak to the notion of time and change. These are repetitive actions that build and transform a work, like a spider, strand by strand, spinning a web, or a wasp, layer by layer, building a nest.

sculptural installation and performance at School 33 Art Center, Baltimore, MD

Standing amidst a field of yellow construction mesh cylinders I unraveled a crocheted tubing structure that hung from the ceiling. A slight tug, a pull, allowed me to unfurl a seemingly unending line of tube that was systematically joined to components in the landscape. Stacking individual cylinders vertically, I used the line of tubing to stitch the forms together, until each spindly tower nearly toppled. I lay each tower down at my feet, slowly constructing a drawing reminiscent of a crop circle.

The residue of the performance remained in the gallery for the duration of the exhibition.

Statement about murmuration:

A swarm of starlings is a living cloud. Twitching and winking, individual divers dart and turn in perfect precision forming first a swell and then a funnel. In these moments individual solids move together to reference liquids. Pouring and flowing, a wave becomes a tail that threads itself back into the pulsating body.
Starlings careen past one another but never collide. Their trajectory is as measured as threads finding purchase through the warp of a loom.
Like birds, we are connected by proxy to those beside us. Sensing tension, joy, or strain, we adjust our course. How fluid shifts can be, devoid of reason, when there is only response.
Bees, too, travel en masse. Leaving one home in search of another, they form a shadowy apparition, buzzing and trembling, like grey lungs taking measured breaths.
What triggers these spontaneous choreographies? Is it the wind ruffling feathers, a restless queen, or a heavy foot on the pedal of a sewing machine? One nearly imperceptible motion can launch a dance, causing upper and lower bobbins to unspool and reunite in a singular interlocking stitch.
I am interested in occurrences in which nature, or materials, defy logic, announcing themselves as simultaneously humble and majestic. Humans attempt to achieve similar perfection, only to fall short. There is beauty in our clumsy attempts, in our determination and hope, and in the acquiescence, that despite our shortcomings, we will continue to labor in perpetuity.

sculptural installation and performance at the Baltimore Museum of Art, Baltimore, MD

Five domes (constructed from clear cups and cable ties) inhabited a corner of the gallery at the Baltimore Museum of Art. Each dome sat upon a mirrored mylar footprint. In the viewer's periphery, mylar reflections created the illusion of spheres that dipped below the floor.

From a perch in the largest dome I stood crocheting fishing line for the duration of the opening reception.

An eight-foot diameter dome constructed from cardboard tubes, paper, paint and glue occupied the gallery. The mouth of each tube was covered with a membrane of water-soluble plastic. During the performance I occupied the dome and used a small stream of water (from latex water balloons) to systematically dissolve each membrane. I began at the top of the dome and worked my way down the interior walls. From outside, as I progressed, my presence was revealed through various apertures in the tubes. The structure resembled a life-size snow globe with a gradually receding water level.

seep
sculptural installation and performance at the Biggs Building, Richmond, VA

I drew water from a basin, using a ladel that functioned as a sieve, and systematically dissolved my environment from hem to bodice. My activity began slowly and gracefully, drizzling water along the perimeter. As I progressed a puddle formed and grew larger, reflecting my activity and increasing the scale of the performance. Over time my movements became frenzied. I struggled to bring the telescoping ladel in close to my body before losing all of the water through the sieve. When the whole structure was dissolved, I lay down the ladel and retreated into the skirt structure, like a natilus, receding into its shell.

ebb
sculptural installation and performance at Hemphill Fine Arts, Washington, DC

Three cylindrical sculptures constructed from water-soluble plastic hung in the gallery. Each structure was comprised of three chambers. Using a reservoir of water attached to my abdomen, and a hand built implement, I melted the center of each circle. I activated the innermost chamber completely and then extended my implement through those holes in order to melt the second and thirs layers. Once the whole cylinder was activated, I tunneled my way out and into the neighboring structure.

temper
sculptural installation and performance at University of Maryland, College Park, MD

Cylinders made from water-soluble plastic were suspended from  the ceiling and comprised a landscape in the gallery. The central cylinders were largest and closest to one another.  As they moved out in space, the cylinders became thinner and were placed further apart. I occupied the largest cylinder, in the center of the gallery. Equipped with water in a modified sprayer, I sprayed a fine mist on the bottom of the cylinder closest to me. Once wet, the membrane of  water-soluble plastic melted away, shedding the acetate ring that served as its base. I melted the cylinder from the bottom upwards, stopping at my approximate height. I repeated this gesture with each neighboring cylinder, starting close, and gradually extending the sprayer beyond my reach. As more structures were melted, a different landscape emerged. Gooey, sticky threads replaced clean orderly cylinders. Globs of water-soluble plastic slid down threads, sustaining  perpetual motion left in my wake. My progress seemed to impede my progress as I had to disentangle myself more frequently for duration of the performance.

Artist Statement:

Insects encase themselves for protection, to create a place where metamorphosis can occur. Utilizing their own secretions, they produce raw materials from which they build. For me, the insect is a metaphor for human behavior. Like insects we are defined by the physical inevitability of our cycles of growth and reproduction, as well as our social need for physical labor.

I have explored these parallels by constructing sculptural costumes that encase my body and resemble cocoons, and then further developed these structures through performance. Exploring the concepts of change and transformation I encase myself in a structure that provides both a covering for my body, as well as a site for an activity. My motion is restricted, and I engage in a repeated action that involves the movement of a material from one part of the structure to another. This process alludes to cannibalism, and also imparts ideas of self-sufficiency implicit in such a closed system.

In one work, entitled Loop, I crocheted a cocoon of tubes to envelop my body like a circulatory system. I sucked on one end of the continuous circuit, drawing fluid from the other end of the long tube, anchored in a pouch on my belly. In another, Seep, my dress extended from my body to become a landscape, its perimeter far beyond my reach. I dipped a 12-foot ladle into a trough of water to slowly dissolve the dress from the hem to the bodice.

In these and in all of my works, the elements are constructed through a laborious process of weaving, braiding, or sewing. They are then activated in performance through a similar process of methodical alteration. I share the space intimately with my audience and communicate not only through sight and movement, but also sound and touch. Utilizing temporal materials such as gelatins, fluids, or water-soluble plastics, I speak to the notion of time and change. These are repetitive actions that build and transform a work, like a spider, strand by strand, spinning a web, or a wasp, layer by layer, building a nest.

loop
Exploring the concepts of change and transformation I encased myself in a structure that provided both a covering for my body, as well as a site for an activity. My motion was restricted, and I engaged in a repeated action that involved the movement of a material from one part of the structure to another. This process alluded to cannibalism, and also imparted ideas of self-sufficiency implicit in such a closed system.

In loop, I crocheted a cocoon of tubes to envelop my body like a circulatory system. I sucked on one end of the continuous circuit, drawing fluid from the other end of the long tube, anchored in a pouch on my belly.

hives, bristle, node, breathe (hair pieces)

Insects encase themselves for protection, to create a place where metamorphosis can occur. Utilizing their own secretions, they produce raw materials from which they build. For me, the insect is a metaphor for human behavior. Like insects we are defined by the physical inevitability of our cycles of growth and reproduction, as well as our social need for physical labor.

I have explored these parallels by constructing sculptural costumes that encase my body and resemble cocoons, and then further developed these structures through performance. Exploring the concepts of change and transformation I encase myself in a structure that provides both a covering for my body, as well as a site for an activity. My motion is restricted, and I engage in a repeated action that involves the movement of a material from one part of the structure to another. This process alludes to cannibalism, and also imparts ideas of self-sufficiency implicit in such a closed system.

In one work, entitled loop, I crocheted a cocoon of tubes to envelop my body like a circulatory system. I sucked on one end of the continuous circuit, drawing fluid from the other end of the long tube, anchored in a pouch on my belly. In another, Seep, my dress extended from my body to become a landscape, its perimeter far beyond my reach. I dipped a 12-foot ladle into a trough of water to slowly dissolve the dress from the hem to the bodice.

In these and in all of my works, the elements are constructed through a laborious process of weaving, braiding, or sewing. They are then activated in performance through a similar process of methodical alteration. I share the space intimately with my audience and communicate not only through sight and movement, but also sound and touch. Utilizing temporal materials such as gelatins, fluids, or water-soluble plastics, I speak to the notion of time and change. These are repetitive actions that build and transform a work, like a spider, strand by strand, spinning a web, or a wasp, layer by layer, building a nest.

lure
crocheted fishing line

A decidedly manmade material behaves like something organic. Serving as a giant fiber optic under direct light, the subtle piece demands attention from a distance, and alludes to a fishing lure.

lure was a companion piece to decoy. Drawings represented the shape-shifting properties of the crocheted fishing line sculpture, and served as a decoy to the sculpture in a concurrent exhibition.

decoy
ink and pencil

8"x10" drawings on shrinkable plastic were shrunk down to approximately 2"x3"

decoy was a companion piece to lure. Drawings represented the shape-shifting properties of the crocheted fishing line sculpture sculpture, and served as a decoy to the sculpture in a concurrent exhibition.

decoy was inspired by the poet, Amy Eisner, and was created in tandem with two of her poems.

hem
aluminum window screening, vinyl, zip ties, grommets, insects

Three trees were sheathed in accordian-folded aluminum window screening.
Screening, a material that was designed to keep insects out of the human environment was introduced into insects' natural habitat.

Highly reflective in sunlight and nearly invisible in shadow, hem addressed issues of visibility and invisibility.

swell
plastic cups, zip ties

Three trees were sheathed in structures constructed from plastic cups and zip ties. Each had a protusion, or swell, like a snake digesting an egg. These structures served as a habitat for cicadas, mosquitoes, and hornets during the five month exhibition. When I thought I was taking a break from performative work, insects became the performers.

Wake was a precursor to Billow. Disposable surgical cap, stiffened with water-soluble plastic stood at attention on the surface of a fishing net. The sculpture occupied a room in the gallery and could only be viewed from the entrance of the doorways. From beneath the surface I sprayed water up into the air allowing droplets to rain down and collapse the field from the center outward. Tiny movements were amplified as I tugged the net and jostled the caps. A small interruption traveled a great distance, similar to the wake created by a vessel at sea.

Vent also referenced a field (or transplanted pool), employed a mechanic's cart, and mimicked travel through water. On the cart, I appeared to glide as if underwater, while creating small vents in the surface membrane. I drew water in through a length of tube and used my own respiration to propel water vertically though the center of each bubble-shaped form. The activity alluded to the natural world, suggesting a whale purging its blow hole, but the geometry, lighting, and handiwork of the sculpture were unequivocally human.