Thou shalt explore.
Thou shalt not merely repeat.
Thou shalt vote in political elections.
Thou shalt listen closely.
Thou shalt give constructive criticism.
Thou shalt go outside your comfort zone.
Thou shalt lend a helping hand.
Thou shalt drink thy coffee every morn.
Thou shalt finish the books thy starts.
Thou shalt eat ALL the chicken nuggets.
Thou shalt leave a mark in someone's life.
Thou shalt be daring.
Thou shalt learn things unknown to you.
Thou shalt speak the truth.
Thou shalt eat dessert every day.
Thou shalt take days off and to thyself.
Thou shalt fight for freedom and equality.
Thou shalt be mindful of others.
Thou shalt laugh with others.
Thou shalt understand your privileges and use them to help those without.
Thou shalt show up.
Thou shalt be conscious.*

What do we hold dear and worthy?

We ask ourselves, do fences make good neighbors? Is the grass really greener on the other side? How do we define home and how do we define personal space?

Examining our relationships with the manufactured and natural landscapes we inhabit, my work explores the current climate, socially, environmentally, and politically. In Disco Avalanche, another recent installation, the 2x2 frameworks brought to mind fabric gurneys and temporary forts, while the rotating disco balls signaled a silent party, combining concern and ambivalence with a desire to make due and be happy in the specter of rapidly diminishing icecaps. Others, like Don’t Fence Me In’s wire landforms, Wherever You Go, There You Are’s portable posts, and the pull-toy Bergs question the balance between staked territory and collective community, from coastal flooding to contested areas and borderlands.

In Boundings, aluminum wire and orange construction fencing filled the gallery. filled the gallery. Eye level at five feet high, and open at the top, the forms referenced flood levels, topographical maps, and water flow patterns. A second theme also emerged—refugee children were (and are) currently being held in similar cages, without families, and in austere conditions. Walking through these forms, which side of the flood, and the cages, were we on?

Often making multiples using found objects—jeans, bedding, reclaimed wood, and construction materials—I am drawn to their histories and connotations. I recognize their temporary natures and unfinished in-betweenness, playing on safety, warning, warmth, transition, upheaval, and im/permanence. Through these, we yearn to measure the intangibles of experience.

Contemplating the struggles and connections we have with each other and the need to find a place to call our own, what measures we take to feel safe? How do we negotiate this world of physical and psychological borders? How do we find our place? Home travels within and without.

*In response to Gilbert & George’s 10 Commandments, my students and I wrote our own during our first class in Fall 2017 and Spring 2018. These are my favorites.