Back in February I walked into the Halsey with a notepad, a measuring tape, and a mission... and walked out with a vision. I know it sounds cheesy, but that's truly how it works. I was drawn to this specific space in the gallery and saw this cave-like form. I knew it belonged there. I knew what I was going to make.
Though I knew almost immediately what form this piece would take, the covering material was something to which I was never fully committed. I had various plans... animal intestines being one of them. But not until (at the very last minute) I started experimenting with a roll of cling wrap, at the off-handed suggestion of an on-looking professor did I know exactly how the piece would be finished, and what it all really meant to me.
As I've said before, I tend to start with forms and let the concepts cultivate from there. At first I had great concerns about the transparency of the material... but then I realized that the transparency is what this piece is all about. I've been working with these biomorphic forms (abstract forms that refer to or evoke living organisms), fabricating them in a manner that I believe to be evocative of 3D computer graphics (the sterile grid-like pattern). This form is soft and inviting, but its not at all place to hide, a place to reside (think hibernating bears). The City Paper said of walking through it... "the experience felt both intimate and exposed." Exactly! It's this idea of a false reality, a false sense of security... the transparency (and fragility), both literally and figuratively, of the fabricated "environment." Have I lost you yet?