Statement:
Each piece requires a series
of things to occur: proliferation of various physical habits like extensive
writing, reading, collecting of very
important quotes on pink
post-it-notes, prayer in front of one of several Jesus or Mary icons, locating
favorite black marker, organization
of items tacked to the wall,
laying out of a thick carpet of books on the floor for quick referencing,
piling of various items into seemingly
arbitrary stacks, arrangement
of pens into their separate containers, and alignment of said icons into
harmonious arrangement with piles
of previous stacked items.
My work is a construction
of the movement of my thoughts as they occur on organization principles,
biological phenomenon, and
landscape - nuclear physics,
topography, urban planning, sex and desire, pilgrimage, natural disasters,
geological strata, and
wanderlust. It is
how I think thoughts look. How lust feels. How I think words
look. Whatever I am reading at the moment
informs and changes my work.
That cluster of pink circles has a sound and output of energy. Things
erupt. Implode.
The weight of drips and
drops and layers is measurable in line and mass and form.
Pink makes me dizzy.
So does orange. And anything iridescent, glowing, or glossy.
I use a pink coffee cup from the
Flamingo Casino in Las Vegas
in the morning. Paint pen markers make a delicious perfect circle.
Gel medium is sexy in
all its stages from milky
white to clear. So is the way it makes pink and orange look fluorescent
and on fire.
I hated pink as a young
girl because Christmas meant puffy paint rose-pink sweatshirts and sickly
pink
pajama bottoms or rose-scented
stationary and pink hair-ties. Now pink is the quest, the goal, the
sex, and the source. |
