time for a change
When I began blogging years ago, I shared images of my painted furniture, short essays, some how-to's for those creative curious.
[ux_cb_wrap][ux_cb_text unique="1583045183346" col="12"]
[gallery ids="4936,4937" type="slideshow"]
More recently I've used the space to explore emotions, muse on personal growth and the way it upsets some relationships, and for several months I shared my process as I wrestled with my graduate committee's statement that I'm so easily seduced by materials. (I meet with them again this Monday. I feel ready.)
Your companionship through all of this was valuable and affirming. Thank you!
time for a change
Would you like to take the next step with me? Because it's time for a change.
Somewhere along the way, my MFA experience gently freed me of amateur status: I am a professional visual artist.
Once more for good measure: I'm a professional visual artist.
In Professional Practices class I reckoned with the notion of capacity. And truth be told, I will always love writing and be a writer…who is also a visual artist.
As a professional visual artist (who writes), I want to use my web presence to show as much, or even more, as I tell about my work. Note: The images with this post are of my work entitled Breathing Lessons. I made this series of blown glass and wood in 2018-2019.
With an update to my site, more of my work will be easy to view. Those who wish to read, can do that. Those who want to see what I make, can do that.
Along with more visual content, the change to my web presence will be guided by my studio practice. My studio practice is ever personal, but it also finds shape through the conversations, books, podcasts, articles, movies and general culture that touch my heart and fuel my ideas.
All of these also informed an assignment for Professional Practices. My artists statement. Here it is.
artist statement
Story is my medium.
Because the stories we tell ourselves inform how we move in the world, how we relate to ourselves and each other, I revisit and reshape the stories I’m telling myself as a way to understand and find the humanity in them—the humor, awkwardness, bravery, shame, kindness, grief. Mine. Yours. Ours.
Navigating the terrain of experience and memory, I make sculptural objects and installations that render internal stories as external. Each story, its tone, and the questions it raises for me, determines the materials I use. Glass conveys strength, transparency, fragility. Wood speaks of layers, roots, passing time. Found objects nod to previous purpose, former identity, disposability.
My storytelling transforms familiar materials or objects a little, or a lot, to posit fresh perspective, thwart expectations, and challenge meaning: a measuring cup with markers erased; a torso that looks like marble, but that is really made of soap; a gathering of imperfect prescription bottles formed of solid glass. Believing that what is most personal is most universal, each work invites viewer reflection, asking Have you ever felt like this? And What is the story you’re telling yourself?
My hands-on, process-based work suggests multiple readings rather than clear conclusions. Whatever the story you tell yourself, I hope that seeing my stories reminds you that you are not alone.
Change is coming. You're invited to stick around and see what that will look like.
As ever, I love hearing from you. What change are you working on?
[/ux_cb_text][/ux_cb_wrap]