When you get something you’ve been wanting for the longest time, it doesn’t feel real. Waiting for and desiring the thing has become such a habit, that the act of waiting and desiring becomes more real than the thing you’re waiting for. When I first realised my art was actually communicating with me, I ignored it. This went on for nearly as long as my hope to make art that communicated with me.
Itching (desiring) and scratching (the beginnings of listening) frames the period in which the work in this show has journeyed. I suffered from a time of blocking my presence from myself. This can sometimes sound like the noise a nail makes in an empty can (if you jumped around with it trying to get attention from yourself and everyone else).
How I came out of this was getting comfortable with a huge amount of ugly clumsiness. And being almost comically aware that it could be temporary, forever, or at best recure in cycles. Art is not made from a loud voice, despite what it may look like sometimes. It is never finished, despite the practical and polished ways in which it is displayed. And it is nearly always viewed as a mirror. hello! 🙂
Rsvp for the opening night here.
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