During the odd and terrifying and decadent time at home, my making revolved around questions of storytelling versus narrative-setting. As I’ve paced my home, and spent weeks folding and arranging paper, my daily gestures began to mix in my mind (both waking and sleeping). Dreams of frying paper cranes for dinner, or foraging for spirals in the sink full of springs at night; an intermingling of daily urges and instincts bloomed from in these routines. As I smelled my neighbor’s dinner through the vents, and felt each breeze through my window unit, I questioned how safe the self-isolation was. How do we track the invisible?
Perhaps the most important cross over from studio-to-home is my steady investigation of multiplicity, accumulation, and gestures, and the way a vast group of small, similar objects can be perceived as both an entity and a crowd. They can skitter, flap, slog, cluster, scatter, flutter, herd, trickle, and mob.
The duality of entity versus crowd holds my focus. The micro versus the macro, and their mixture. The mixture of dream and life, or an unplottable, unplaceable object, structure, or natural pattern. There is a tension within the overlapping of micro and macro, within the rippling, and the eventual mirroring of patterns as both our conscious and subconscious work, in tandem, to define what is before us.