the suppression of awareness part 2:5, 2012
ongoing mixed media installation
>> untitled (morgan avenue), 2019-2020
>> revisited: compilation/collection, 2012, 2014, 2018
>> antiform, 2017
>> archive, 2016
>> untitled: se1-49, 2015
>> untitled: maxon mills, 2015
>> compilation, 2012-2013
>> the suppression of awareness, 2002, 2012
>> the processes of knowledge, 2004
>> sumus solum quot mentes credant, 2001
others’ writing that help place things into context
in regards to __liniation__, 2019
prints (what would have been) //
the prints are visual representations of ten underscores typed consecutively on a letter-sized page. the page, originally from a perforated stack of dot-matrix computer paper, is removed from its banner-like position; all perforated vestiges torn away. ten underscores mark a segmented line. in modern typography, the line typically forms a solid. typed with a 1940’s royal, ink evaporating, the continuation is suggested. breaks in the boundary allow for sighs, exhales and possible entries into new spaces. side-to-side. back-and-forth. here and there. the page offers this possibility and adds to notions of contradiction within the larger boundaries of the eight and a half by eleven inch surface.
original statement for __lineation__ //
physical space and time have always been important elements within my practice. i cannot help but to see a place’s potential the moment i enter it. this engagement could materialize into a variety of moments to form a fully-realized intervention, but it always starts with imagining the impossible. what if i moved the wall in-front of the windows? how would the light be revealed in the space and how might the sight of the street change our experiences in the gallery? what if i replaced the original walls from the old apartments that used to exist here? how many conversations about life were had in these spaces? how many times were the walls painted? floors sanded? stairs climbed? my questions of a space always look to the past, but in a way that pushes us to the next.
drawing lines are usually my next step. they form and build both digitally or physically as major elements — indicators of boundary and self. lines develop and spaces form. conversations open through the building of space through shape and tone. actual physical surfaces/walls become substrates. we are surrounded. these temporary additions add to ideas within the moment in performative and yet more exacting ways. direct application emphasizes space and time — building upon the existing histories, these drawings will too disappear.
ultimately, the installation process and resulting intervention focuses on awareness. what i love about the notion of awareness is that it goes beyond politics and class and social-strata. it elevates all willing to engage with it, no matter where they stand. therefore, the idea of awareness brings us ever closer to understanding and perhaps a more permanent solution to issues that affect our day-to-day. awareness of ourselves and our surrounds will open up the possibility of being a more engaged citizen. a more empathetic human.
revised statement for __lineation__ //
time and process need to be revealed in a way that steps away from the direct performative. implied performance is preferred here. removing drawings applied directly to the walls; this space comes back to the typed page. a recent performance measured time by day and marked the slow process one day at a time. day-by-day. page-by-page. this recent memory seems to make the most sense in the way that it takes the mark off the wall. here, the above (on prints) holds true. underscores, duration, segmentation, whole. defined moments of soft openness and possibility. here, the page hums as if holding onto the clap of inked metal arm, leveraged from a shift and number six keys pressed at the same time. echoes enter fibers like moments fill air and memory becomes walls — layer after layer, month after month. we get to thirty here. days, years, underscores like letterpressed line on page, year on skin, mark on wall. these framed moments compile. rest. reverberate each tap, each sigh, as walls fill time between tomorrow’s daydream.
in regards to citizen, 2018
the history of how a community treats citizen’s rights directly reflects our broader society, both now and in the past. a person’s ability and desire to protect basic human rights is a factor to how strong the fabric of community may be, allowing people to be free citizens capable of living life to their fullest. looking back in time reveals our triumphs as well as our shortcomings as a society.
tash kahn is interested in the differences and character of each of the london borough of camden’s voting wards and how things have changed over the years: has history left its mark or have areas changed beyond recognition? how do the inhabitants ‘inhabit’ the new, constantly changing space? using these questions as starting points she has travelled to each of the borough’s 18 wards, taking polaroids, collecting ‘finds’ and recording local sounds.
ros has looked back at voting districts throughout the borough, considering how they influence our identities as citizens. how does each new boundary shape identity? ros has researched several spaces and times within the current boundaries of the borough, looking at voting trends since women have been given the right to vote. in doing so, he has marked out visual representations of the area questioning: what is boundary? what is citizenry? how does one affect the other?
the two artists bring these ideas together to collaborate in an exhibition that celebrates 100 years of the women’s right to vote, focuses on aesthetics and ethics, and why people do what they do.
in regards to untitled: fa 259, 2017
these walls seem familiar, but they are freshly coated. seamless. layers sandwiched between the appeal of the contemporary. space that sheds the history like layers cast off, dried, aged, falling. these walls hummed. they still do. a different, but not unfamiliar tune. the anxiety of desire. the ravenous appetite of the learner. the humility of the learned. we come to this place as we always did, as we will continue to do — to find something more than what we are told. to discover new truths. to ask questions. some age-old, some newly discovered. what comes of time? of all this knowledge? have we moved to new places? firmed our place on the ground? passage of time can empower and dismantle. provide and withhold. forgive and resent. at what point must we find the first brick to lay down? and how many will approve of its placement?
i remember an old friend saying, pick a place and stand there. it took me a long time before i knew what that meant. i mean, i know that the individual words mean. it’s something about conviction, right? something about belief? stand there.
the passing of time teaches me that though we learn so much, we know so little. this piece is as much about reconciling the past as it is accepting the future. in-between those two places i stand.
in-between. both, and neither. once again it feels as though this place has picked me.
each air particle has its role to play — light falls floor and ceiling and walls, like the memory of these walls, the cement — the brick. heated once and now not. a safe place for student and molten metal. a space where we learn to become who we might be.
in regards to topaz, 2017
i start every new installation with two elements: 01. an initial reaction to the physical space, and 02. a floor plan. i arrive with next to nothing: a tape measure and some blue painters tape. either i scavenge for, or the space provides the rest.
light (as an essential medium in my practice) always plays a major role in truly understanding a space. naturally occurring light and fluorescent light fixtures intermingle to fill the room and reveal its intricacies. these elements: from past utility or aesthetics all culminate to inform my next movements.
it seemed fitting to start with philip newcombe, DOLPH’s first exhibitor. for whatever reason, the color topaz sticks in my brain. i first experienced philip’s work in the 2015 DOLPH catalogue. the color triggers something in me. DOLPH and i share this starting point.
bordering on obsession, i contemplate the yellow color. can i replicate it with my limited palette in my new york studio? can i imagine being at newcombe’s exhibit in 2014? can it feel my presence? my pressure? what does the color do as it revisits this space.
this process of working with space and light is more about possibility and awareness than about chance, though chance does play a role as it might in these circumstances. as i reside in this gallery, might i be able to make myself aware of every element within this space? might i provide you the same possibility?
>> the institution is ubiquitous, intermission museum of art + stand4 gallery | september 2021
>> forever learning, revolutionary love and the collaborative reading space, stand4 gallery | april 2021
>> it can begin with clouds, mica | november 2019
>> “to know there is a god” and other mitzvot, the 613 by archie rand, jmu | august 2018
>> …m-a-r-c-h…, stephanie williams: lingering survival of the unfit, stand4 | august 2018
images that have stuck with me