The paper is done!

Oh what a joyous day, the painful task of writing is done. One more pin down and two to go (the exhibition mounting and defence)

Here is a chunk of it and the conclusion...

Constructed out of discarded boxes, paper, hair, and any variety of found objects these sculptures depict stripped down abject narratives. Figures and architecture are democratized and the boxes are not just stages for telling a story but have become equated within the narrative. In great western basement beer box dreams, the simultaneous simplicity of material and complexity of reading as a narrative ready-made create the pinnacle of abject experience within this exhibition. The beer box is walled with plastic mactac wood paneling, handmade dangling light fixture, faux marble floor, and cut out circular window that offers a view to a magazine image of a Hawaiian paradise. This construct creates a simultaneous rejection of craft as well as an acceptance of it. This sculpture, made out of waste, connects with memories of beer, basements, and dreaming of being somewhere other than where one is. The fantasy of a paradise is pathetically exposed as vain desire through the ripped out magazine image taped to the wall behind.

As in photographs, which can be explained as memory triggers, these sculptures explore notions of gaze and the tension between constructed fantasy and pathetic reality. In looking at an old photo album, the photos seen are simply objects patching into a memory sketch in the person beholding the object. The moment presented in a photograph has past and in essence, is dead, and the living image in one’s imagination, upon interpreting it, is an unrealized desire only existing in fantasy. These dioramas function similarly to my photographs in that they are aesthetically assembled of reclaimed objects, testify to the constructed image, and bear witness to memory like an old family photo might in their composition and associations with domestic narrative. Basements, kitchens, bedrooms, hallways, and closets are explored as sites of memory and abjection. Like one reads a photo and associates experienced time to reconstruct its meaning, so these dioramas make similar quotations on time, memory, and the simultaneous breakdown of both. A beer box is a basement; a basement is a milk carton; a milk carton is a closet; a closet is a cracker; a cracker is a stereoscope; a stereoscope is a stain on the floor; a stain on the floor is a smell; a smell is a memory; memory is self. These sculptures are constructed with the efficiency of minimal media positing profound, poignant, tales and pathetic portraits. The repulsive is made familiar and the ugly made beautiful when a beer box can speak volumes about the human condition. The self is seen in these sculptures in a kind of pathetic fallacy, be it through the gestalt of a lone figure in a corner of a milk carton or in a particular gesture of embarrassment held by a seven foot giant with garbage bag pants; one is brought to humor only to be countersunk with pity.

These works more closely resemble self-portraits in their description of my own neurosis regarding intimacy, exposure, and shame. Can one be repulsive and poignant? This is what makes the human experience so unfortunate - the inherent inability to be located, desirable, and honest while simultaneously being identified with the abject. Confronting self is like confronting a corpse; I am confused at what I see because of abject identity. I am relegated to ask again ‘Where am I’ and ‘is This it?’