Heating Systems (group show)
An invisible "we" speak from inside the "belly of a beast". Every once in a while the mouth of the beast opens to a transparency grid: a digital void – a great unknown. swallow + be swallowed is a video work that meditates on the totalizing engulfment of capitalist imperialism. Through experimental editing techniques on found footage, I explore tearing, cutting, consumption, and regurgitation as tools for confronting this overwhelming mesh that can feel impenetrable. The result is a moving collage where an assemblage of everyday life melts together in order to create new vantage points. Some of the footage depicts mundane, humorous, or delightful moments and others more disturbing. Together these fragments of the hegemonic life are destabilized and become unnerving. As the "we" acknowledge, "it's hard to discern the beast from ourselves." These systems simultaneously surround us and live inside us. The work begins internally but also requires faith in the indeterminable.
The dog's got her own tail pinched firmly in her teeth. Do you really think there’s an endless supply to feed on? I’m not sure metaphors exist anymore but parody sure does and it’s happening everywhere as that old monkey says. And it’s not just “nature” that’s doing that dance.
I’ve walked 262,934 steps in the past week. I’m walking circles in this city. I’ve got holes in my shoes / in my socks / in my feet. I write while I walk because that’s the only thing that gets the gas going and also I’m afraid that if I stop —
STOP!!!
...the so-called garbage on the street winks at me and I sure as hell do more than wink back. You could say this comes from a particular loneliness.
Sometimes I look up at the air vent that hovers over my desk and I imagine one swift motion from my lungs through to that grate and into the ducts and around the building and back again up through my nose. It doesn't mean much but it's good to reckon with where it is you fit in amongst the processes of being. After all, the sun offers more than we need.
It is reasonable to admit that the sacred order of things is terrifying in all of its dumb illegible mist. But even more so are the gambling gods' mystical codes who are resolved to clog every last hole. To overlay such hard lined rules to the Ocean tides is to miss the point entirely.
swallow + be swallowed, 2024
concrete, sand, burlap, iPad
Holy Sock Exchange, 2024
Found shoe rack, holy socks, Sizzix A4 Inkjet Shrink Plastic,
Documentation by Ellen-Rose Wallace
Tale of a Tub
Heating Systems (group show)
Tale of a Tub
swallow + be swallowed, 2024
concrete, sand, burlap, iPad
An invisible "we" speak from inside the "belly of a beast". Every once in a while the mouth of the beast opens to a transparency grid: a digital void – a great unknown. swallow + be swallowed is a video work that meditates on the totalizing engulfment of capitalist imperialism. Through experimental editing techniques on found footage, I explore tearing, cutting, consumption, and regurgitation as tools for confronting this overwhelming mesh that can feel impenetrable. The result is a moving collage where an assemblage of everyday life melts together in order to create new vantage points. Some of the footage depicts mundane, humorous, or delightful moments and others more disturbing. Together these fragments of the hegemonic life are destabilized and become unnerving. As the "we" acknowledge, "it's hard to discern the beast from ourselves." These systems simultaneously surround us and live inside us. The work begins internally but also requires faith in the indeterminable.
Holy Sock Exchange, 2024
Found shoe rack, holy socks, Sizzix A4 Inkjet Shrink Plastic,
The dog's got her own tail pinched firmly in her teeth. Do you really think there’s an endless supply to feed on? I’m not sure metaphors exist anymore but parody sure does and it’s happening everywhere as that old monkey says. And it’s not just “nature” that’s doing that dance.
I’ve walked 262,934 steps in the past week. I’m walking circles in this city. I’ve got holes in my shoes / in my socks / in my feet. I write while I walk because that’s the only thing that gets the gas going and also I’m afraid that if I stop —
STOP!!!
...the so-called garbage on the street winks at me and I sure as hell do more than wink back. You could say this comes from a particular loneliness.
Sometimes I look up at the air vent that hovers over my desk and I imagine one swift motion from my lungs through to that grate and into the ducts and around the building and back again up through my nose. It doesn't mean much but it's good to reckon with where it is you fit in amongst the processes of being. After all, the sun offers more than we need.
It is reasonable to admit that the sacred order of things is terrifying in all of its dumb illegible mist. But even more so are the gambling gods' mystical codes who are resolved to clog every last hole. To overlay such hard lined rules to the Ocean tides is to miss the point entirely.
Documentation by Ellen-Rose Wallace