Blood Stained Dress Blood Stained Dress 2018 White dress embroidered to mimic menstrual blood. video document "Traditionally blood in art depicts heroism and martyrdom. However my embroidered piece, Blood Stained Dress celebrates the banal to explore menstrual taboos. Photographed across different locations, each setting adds their own narrative to the work. The images photographed on the English South Coast explore isolation and period poverty. Traditionally white dresses symbolise purity, but also represent unattainable ideals. Menstrual taboos and scepticism, intensifies the suffering of those outside society. The sea personifies human existence; the serene but deadly waves have both the power to destroy, yet also cleanse and rebuild. Not all emotional scars will heal, but accepting their existence helps to make us stronger." Blood Stained Dress 2018 Blood Stained Dress 2018 Blood Stained Dress 2018
0 Comments
Pulp Pulp 2010 (music by Prussia) Stills from Pulp Satori (feature film) Satori 2015 Official trailer for Satori - feature length movie by Erica Schreiner Full length movie, total running time: 1hr 33min // silent w/subtitles "Two years in the making, Satori is a feature length movie, created entirely by video and performance artist, Erica Schreiner. Shot on a VHS camera, Erica performs before the camera while simultaneously operating the camera. Nightly, Satori gives birth to eggs and sells them in order to make enough money to survive so she can continue to make art. Satori becomes worn out and conflicted with this act of selling part of herself and discusses this and the many aspects of being an artist with her friends: An encouraging unicorn, the all-knowing goddess, Isis, and a very disagreeable Beta fish. Together they help Satori find a way into the Universe where she goes in search of meaning and answers about her current existence as an artist." Stills from Satori Skye - New Friend 2007 Skye - Birthday 2007
Maintenance Sinks In Maintenance Sink In from Jenna Rochelle on Vimeo. Maintenance Sinks In 2018 Stills from Maintenance Sinks In
More than anything in the world I want to sing to you. More than anything in the world I want to sing to you. Untitled 1999
[Image Description: Color photograph of the surface of water, rippling. Two leafs float on the surface, in the foreground.]
More than anything in the world I want to sing to you. Traveling with the fear of water is the fear of falling. My suitcase is a full carry on. The flight I’m waiting for? First name. My father’s last was Sailors. His red Irish hair waves goodbye. The fact I’ll know him. Push off shore. Gather than hold movement by circling. Float. Swim. No. Could you be your own Lazarus? A scrolling parchment forever meeting itself? Every form, your most immediate effort? The nomadic shape of your breast? The flight I’ll board is late I’m afraid. I sit in a chair welded to others. We shift our weight. We share the news in silence. More than anything in the world I want to sing to you. Hold the curve surely with difficult breathing. I’m suffering a very person. Adorned with perhaps a pair of seashell earrings, perhaps pierced ones. I re-think my itinerary. I press my face on one side of a thin slice of glass and all the air in the sky on the other, Float! Swim! No. Museum of countless palpitations, swelling fruit forming a nest, pressing a mosque, An upside down cup begging Christ, A breast between limits. My breath sweats while I sleep through yet another dream. Your car keys forgotten on the dresser. Inside a carryon, bloodred Irish hair, heaving clouds. This name that speaks like a brass belt buckle, This name that knifes a fish clean. This name, his name, that swims the distance in me. More than anything in the world I want to sing to you. 2005
Passage PASSAGE Being with my father when he passed away, making the transition that we all will experience, changed me and my art in unexpected ways. There is a real, physical, painful awareness that starts to bleed into a more surreal, nebulous, and non-linear state of being. [Image Description: Abstract watercolor on off-white fiber paper, depicting a nebulous wispy floating wash, in pink, brown, and grey with a touch of light blue, crosses downward from left to right. A thin vein of bright opaque crimson in the center.] There is a visceral pain of flesh and blood. There is also a strange type of joy as the rush of love and memories fills the soul which now has these massive voids to fill. The passage of time is inevitable and this brings both an immense grief and a sort of cautious optimism. This newfound duality is unsettling but the feeling of submitting to the inevitable is oddly relieving. [Image Description: Abstract watercolor on fiber paper, depicting a glowing pale yellow figure in the center, surrounded by a nebulous, brownish yellow wash, surrounded again by a deeper coloured, web-like pattern of red, cobalt, black and purple wash, with a system of cobalt tentacle-like, or root-like arms, which seem to be glowing with the same pale yellow, reaching out to the edge of the image, in all directions.] It has been a great challenge to try to capture and process this new state of being, but I am compelled to continue letting my intuition, as well as the paint and brush guide my hand in translating the images in my head and in my heart. My artwork before this experience was more literal, more illustrative. [Image Description: Abstract watercolor on fiber paper, depicting a plum coloured wash frame, which graduates as an ombre effect to luminous ochre and yellow, toward the center. A pale, glowing human figure stands at the center. My goal was to recreate that which was physically visible, the way I saw it. Holding my dad’s hand while he transitioned, feeling his body cool down, exhaling so much that I could literally feel the emptiness in my chest. Now that I have spent days and days in this more ethereal and spiritual space, my work tends to grasp for the images that solely represent feelings, thoughts, and sights seen by the heart, not the eyes. [Image Description: Silhouette of a figure, depicted in black, facing a white or very pale purple light, in the center of a tunnel. The walls of the tunnel graduate towards the edges in a wavy ombre effect, from center light to darker purple and finally blue, with wave-like drawn details in black ink.] The void where my heart should be, where his love filled my heart. Only, then to inhale and feel that his love had not gone anywhere, but is still indeed all around. Empty to full, and back again, as I breathed each breath and my father no longer did. It is a cloud of memories that lingers around my head and is punctuated with jolts of love and painful reality. This is my process that continues. Passage 2017
The Space Lady, a mood-setter and guide for this series: The Space Lady - Synthesize Me "I started these drawings in September 2017. The fires in the (Columbia) Gorge had happened. The Eclipse had happened. Summer was fading away and fall was just beginning. I always get melancholy during this time in the season but this particular point in time I felt a heaviness and darkness along side it. I discovered The Space Lady around this time too." Sickly 2017
[Image Description: Direct-address image of torso of a femme figure, depicted in charcoal, and shades of grey. The figure is facing the viewer, and sticking out their tongue. Light, long hair blowing or floating to the viewer's right. Dark shirt or blouse. Their eyes gaze rather blankly forward, with thick eyelashes. ]
"She's a musician, mainly playing covers, but has her own songs as well. She plays keyboards with lots of reverb, echoes, distortion and sings softly and beautifully. She claims to have had an other worldly experience with aliens when she was put under during a hospital visit." Stuck 2017
[Image Description: Direct-address image of torso of a femme figure, depicted in charcoal, and shades of grey. The figure is facing the viewer, with closed, downturned, painted mouth. Dark, curly or wavy hair. Striped shirt. Their eyes gaze rather blankly forward. ]
"I mention her because I listened to her obsessively while creating this body of work. I feel as though she guided me and set the mood for the series. I also got to see her play the day I drew the first 'Icon'. I told her that this drawing was a direct result of listening to her music and thanked her." Stoned 2017
[Image Description: Direct-address image of head of a femme figure, depicted in charcoal, and shades of grey. The figure is facing the viewer, and slightly smiling, showing teeth. Dark, long straight hair. Their eyes gaze rather blankly forward, slightly uneven.]
"I went into my studio to draw because I felt like I needed to get something out. I needed a release. I drew the first 3 drawings, all portraits of no one in particular, all women (?), all looking like snapshots or pictures. I was thinking about different expressions or feelings- expressions that other people make or that I make. Simple enough, and very therapeutic for me." "The second group consists of....I think of them as my own set of Icons or Sensitive Higher Beings. I'm not sure how to title them, still not sure I will."
Icons or Sensitive Higher Beings:
2017
[Image Description: Charcoal image of a femme figure. The figure is facing the viewer, and wearing a long, charcoal/dark grey cloak. The figure's left arm is outstretched to the right edge of the frame, open palm, facing upward, with rays (of energy?) emanating upward. Their eyes gaze rather blankly forward-right. Wide nostrils, indicated by two dark dots. Frizzy, dark hair, blending into the dark cloak. Their mouth is open, and a second mouth is in the center of the forehead, also agape.]
2017
[Image Description: Sanguine or red charcoal image of a femme figure. The figure is facing the viewer, and wearing a long, red cloak, rendered in loose, unfinished marks. The figure's eyes gaze to the figure's left/viewer's right. The hair is depicted as a choppy, straight, cheek-length bob. Their mouth is slightly open, and five thin red lines are drawn downward, from the lower lip to the chin.]
2017
[Image Description: Charcoal image of a femme figure. The figure is facing the viewer, slightly to the figure's right / viewer's left. The figure is wearing a long, charcoal/dark grey cloak, with a tight hood. Their eyes gaze rather blankly upward. Wide nostrils, indicated by two dark dots. Cheeks are depicted as light grey, indicating flushing or blushing. Their mouth is open.]
Empty Planet 2016 New Wound 2015 "And the bits inside the box are remains...are what's cast off when the beings move on." For details about this box, click here. Dust 2015 i’ve been thinking a lot about human relations about the rigidity or fluidity of the boxes we paint ourselves into. i love boxes. there are secrets in them... messages random scraps beads, gum wrappers, images cut from my contact sheets they are dark inside. i tried to make one wet but it rusted so I tried to make another one wet but the wood got swollen i am the wettest box I know. 2006 "I took out the doll, and never saw it again. Yep, it disappeared! I'm sure one of my kittens took it outside and had a blast with it, and maybe one day I will find it (or some telltale pile of sawdust and fabric) under a random bush." For details about this box, click here. Untethered Pearls 2015 "...stood before..the hearth..like a woman..lost..." Baby Bone Box 2015 What You See Is Not What You Get Sticks n Stones Strange Dreams The Butterfly Tree
My Reason
Social-media updates by a mother, while her son is at boot-camp.
"12 more days until I see my son." 12 More Days Until I See My Son 2018
[Image Description: The number 12, built out of small, green plastic toy soldiers, displayed on a wooden background.]
"# More Days Until I See My Son"
# More Days Until I See My Son 2018 *6 more days until I get to see my Son. [Photo credit: Snowzie Roze]
[Image Description: A grid of images that count down from 12 to 1.
"When (my son) was home, he spoiled me quite a bit. (...) He refused to let me pay for any groceries. He wouldn't allow me to pay for our lunch dates. And while he was out with a buddy, instead of buying things for himself, he made just one purchase: a Kittea Tea Infuser...for me. " "Right now, I'm drinking green tea from my Son's favorite mug, a Harry Potter cup that says, "Brave." Right now, I'm thinking of the most selfless, beautiful human being...my boy." "Puffy eyed...this morning was a hard one." "Spending quality time with my goofy Son! He is life!" "Challenge coins, one to display and one to keep near my heart. This is when I started to blubber." Challenge Coins 2018 "My first hug." My first hug, my ugly cry. [Photo by Jason Powell] 2018
[Image Description: A black and white photographic image of two figures, hugging. A young man in enlisted military uniform (Service "C") is pictured hugging his mother. His mother is resting her head against his shoulder. Her face is emotional - what she refers to as "my ugly cry" face. Many figures linger in the background. ]
"My son's much deserved rank." "I got to pet Chesty Puller XIV, the official mascot of the Marine Corps!" "My very first glimpse of my Son after three long months!" "In about an hour, I get to hug my Son, my Marine." "I get to meet my son's drill instructors on Wednesday evening!" "Someone told me that Marine boot camp graduations are really spectacular. I am going to need to waterproof my makeup and clothes because I'm going to be a giant vessel of tears when I see him." "I'm dying to see him. He's on his way for the Warrior Breakfast. I was told he and the other New Marines will probably throw it all up since their bodies have been conditioned to operate with little food." "Just a few minutes ago....my son earned the title, United States Marine." "Tonight....at 2 AM, my son will begin the Crucible. This will be the culminating event that all boot camp recruits will have to endure before earning the title, "US Marine." The challenge is: 54 hours 48 miles 36 warrior stations 29 team building exercises 4-6 hours sleep [total] 2.5 MRE's [meals ready to eat] Today, I manically printed out little posters of my son with his first name, company, and platoon number to which I adhered to all of our candles. I also purchased two LED candles for my son's window sills - to stay lit for the duration of the Crucible. The entire time I was doing all this, I kept repeating to myself, " (My son)'s got this." I will be sending him all of my heart for this grueling journey, and I hope you will do the same....because on Friday, he will be sleep deprived, hungry, mentally & physically spent...BUT he will have earned the title....United States Marine. I can't imagine anything more honorable than that." To Stay Lit For the Duration of the Crucible 2018
[Image Description: A black and white photographic image of two windows, with a black cat in between, facing away from the camera, toward the windows. In the center of the windows are placed photographic images of the author's son, smiling, in street clothes. There are candles placed at the base of each window.]
"Today, my son will experience the "confidence" [gas] chamber....and tonight at 2 AM, he will embark on his final challenge, the Crucible. Keep him in your thoughts. I am so glad he's almost done with boot camp. Jeeeez." "Just got a 60 second phone call from (my son) in boot camp. He greeted me with, "안녕, 엄마 [annyeonghaseyo, Omma]!" That's Korean for 'Hello, momma!' My heart is bursting." "In 6 days, my son will officially be a United States Marine. And in 19 days, I will finally get to hold my son, my new Marine." Cat has been training, at home, inspired by her son. "I am still a weakling and soft in the middle, but I can finally do 2 chin-ups with a light resistance band. It's progression for me because a month ago, the only thing I could do was lift a wine glass to my mouth." A video, documenting herself training at home, that Cat originally uploaded to Facebook. My Reason 2018 "I have just officially bonded with a woman who is an Air Force veteran and mother to a recruit who is also in the same company as my son. I cannot even tell you how much this means to me. A new family member and a friend for life. We are planning a wine night before we get to see our new Marines in San Diego. I felt lonely before, but not as much now. (.....)...you are life. Selfies soon!" "When J heard me mutter, "I miss (my son)," he retorted, "What's new?!"" Doodles in the Letters: Improvised Floofen Stripes 2018
[Image Description: A color photographic cropped image of a piece of lined paper, on a wooden, circular table, with a ball-point pen illustration of a cat. The cat is striped. The tip of a red-colored ball-point pen is entering the image, laying on the paper, from the bottom left hand of the frame.]
"Occasionally, I will doodle in the letters I send to my son. I always use a ballpoint pen...so if I screw up, I have to improvise. With that said...this floofen did not have stripes at first." My Sweet, Little Baby
[Image Description: A color photographic image, a snapshot, of a light-haired infant (around 15 months), facing the camera with a grin. He is wearing a red onesie, with red and white stripes on the collar and wrists. In his right hand (to the viewer's left) he clasps multiple colored markers - pink, red, blue, yellow, brown/tan, and dark green. He has pink marks on his forehead. ]
"I know he's a grown man, now --- but he'll always be my sweet, little baby. Only a month until I see him. My experiences with a son in boot camp are, I'm sure, wildly different than his own. But I think he'll agree, that this journey has been difficult for both of us. I miss him." "After further speculation....I think I found my son. I love him so much!" I Think I Found My Son 2018
[Image Description: A color photographic image of two figures, in camouflage, and protective gear, wearing helmets with wire face guards. The figures faces toward the left. The figure in the foreground has a red helmet on. The figure beside them, to their right, has a blue helmet on. There is a bright red (digitally) hand-drawn circle around the blue helmet, with an arrow pointing toward it. In white, bold text, "I think this is (.....) !!!!" The name has been digitally blurred out with green. ]
"I'm up late and saw that my son's company was featured again on the MRCD Facebook page. I'm always excited when I see Kilo Company 3rd Battalion shots because I desperately want to see his face...but alas, I couldn't find him. *Sigh* I miss my boy." "I got another letter from my son. His first words were: "Dear beloved, amazing, compassionate, all-time super star Momma." Oh my heart....it's spilling all over the place. Today is my favorite." "Another glimpse of Kilo Company, 3rd Battalion performing log drills. This is "team week" and my son and the other recruits are being conditioned to perform as a cohesive unit, not as individuals. I desperately scanned those photos for my son, but could not find him." "There are 91 days in Marine Corp boot camp. My son has been in training for 40 days, which means he has 51 more days left until he graduates. If there was any wish I could ask for, I'd wish for time to fly." "As I was walking to meet my Mother-in-law this afternoon, I was greeted by a very excited stranger. He was across the street, screaming at me, "You fucking Jap! I'm gonna bash your head in with a sledgehammer!" I turned to get a closer look at him while he raged on, "A fucking sledgehammer! Get over here, Jap! I'm gonna kill you!" I waltzed over to the side of the pavement he was on, looked him dead in the eyes and confidently flipped him off. He slithered away after that because....well, you see, I've got the crazy in my eyes too. I'm a mother whose son is in bootcamp, and I'm not as sane as I used to be." "My son is not a Marine yet. He's a recruit - he has to earn the title. And I would like to share the very wise advice dispensed from a woman whose loved one earned the title. She nailed it. I'm not sure I'm ready for all this, but I'm buckling up. "Your RCT [recruit] enlisted, but you were drafted. This is going to be a roller coaster ride like none you’ve ever ridden before, so hold on!"" "Another glimpse into my son's company training: bayonet assault and pugil sticks. Try as I could, I was unable to find Stephen. What I wouldn't do to see my kid." This Is Breath 2018
[Image Description: A close-up color photographic image of a white envelope being pressed to a chest with a hand. ]
"We live in a digital age where constant contact is normal --- bordering on annoying. But since my son left for bootcamp, nearly three weeks ago, he's been off the map. I can't call him, text him, email him. I can't peruse his social media accounts to check up on him. I just have what limited communication is allowed. This is the second time I've heard from him. This is breath." "Jason and I woke up early so we could watch the first sunrise of 2018. It was 31 degrees out, we were shivering as we sat on a park bench - watching the sky slowly catch on fire. It was beautiful, it reminded me of my son." Watching the Sky Slowly Catch on Fire 2018
[Image Description: A color photographic image of a vibrant sunset. The sky is reflected in the rather still waters, below. A dimming blue sky is lit up with bright peach and dark lavender stratus clouds, surrounded by a glow of marigold toward the horizon. ]
"I miss my kid." "Just found out Rosie O'Donnell's son shipped out for bootcamp one week before my son. It moved me because I know what she's going through."
My Son Leaves For Boot Camp:
"Right after my son took his final oath." Right After My Son Took His Final Oath 2017
[Image Description: A close-up black and white photographic image of mother and son, hugging. Both figures face left, his eyes closed, hers open. He is wearing a dark button up shirt, top button open. His mother, has long dark hair, with short, v-shaped bangs. She wears what appears to be a winter coat with a fuzzy collar. ]
Goodbyes 2017
[Image Description: A black and white photographic Cat hugging her son, her back to the viewer, his arm around her back. Figures of two young men in the background, not in focus.]
"Today was a hard day for me. I watched my son take his final oath as an active duty member of the military. I tried not to blubber too much, but I failed miserably. He was, however, surrounded by family and friends - because he is loved - and that is immeasurable to me. J and I stayed for hours, even after all the parents left. I even got to talk to the other recruits going to San Diego. They were all fresh-faced, eager young men. Three of the boys assured me, "Don't worry, we'll take care of him!" I replied, "You promise?!? Because he's my only child!" After that exchange, I experienced the most intense instinct - I wanted to mother them all. [I would also like to give props to J for patiently waiting around with me. I was not an easy person to deal with today.] A few hours later, we followed the shuttle to the airport. I wanted to properly say goodbye to my son. But I also wanted to say goodbye to the other poolees. I barked, "Be safe, boys! Take care of each other!" One of the poolees replied, "We will. We'll see you in three months!" I won't lie, I'm still heart broken. It is not easy to return home to all the emptiness. I'm going to fucking miss my kid. He's my reason. But I am comforted with the knowledge that my son has new family members.....as do I. [I'm going to post some blurry pics I took today. I wasn't trying to get perfect pictures, I was just trying to capture the moment.]" Hugging His Best Friend 2017
[Image Description: A black and white photographic image of Cat's son and his best friend hugging. They are both in silhouette A woman looks on from the right frame, in the background, not in focus.]
The Shuttles Shipping Off The Recruits 2017
[Image Description: A black and white photographic image of two vans, parked in a parking lot.]
"Because life is unpredictable....my son's ship date for bootcamp was changed back to it's original schedule: (.............). So in between my ugly cries, my son has obliged me with his time. I don't need a holiday to consider this the most precious gift." "My son is now older than I was in this pic. Craziness." Now Older Than I Was
[Image Description: A faded colour photographic snapshot of the artist, Cat, with her son as a baby in diapers. They are both waving to the camera. They are standing outside, next to a shrub, in front of a car.]
"My Reason" My Reason 2017
[Image Description: A colour photographic image of a male young adult, wearing black button-up shirt and slack, standing on a beach, facing away from the camera toward the water.]
Strange Sanctuaries
I like to start many new endeavors off with a good bibliomancy. I have a strange and fortuitous configuration in my living situation right now. I live above a puppet studio next door to a house that looks like it could be from Middle Earth, or perhaps a Germanically inspired country hunting lodge in the mountains of Paraguay. Out my door, I walk along a path through a small Japanese garden under a tori gate and down the stairs to the office, where there is an archive of papers from the estate of the late Joseph Campbell. The archive is kept in file folders, much as it was when it was first placed there in the 1980s. Today I opened a random file folder as I often do. Out fell a typed schedule for the International Conference of Transpersonal Psychology in Bifrost, Iceland. I note that the conference begins on the exact day I was born, May 31, 1972. Who attended this conference in 1972? Gene Erdman, Joseph Campbell, Stanley Krippner, Stanislav Grof, Lester Fehmi (one of the pioneers of modern biofeedback) and many others. After finding these notes, I strolled in the neighboring house to share my findings with Robin, who has attended many transpersonal psychology conferences. "Ahh" she said, smiling. "I think that may have been the day that Joan Halifax met Stanislav Grof." These folks in Iceland are beautiful people, elfin, dark eyed, connected to the land. I loved it there! Her eyes glinted. She asks if I can help fold puppet costumes for a moment. The blue cloak for the puppet called "Winter King" has just come out of the dryer. We take the cape, stretch it out evenly and fold it up for storage. Owl cliff house is a strange sanctuary. This afternoon I awoke from a nap after many errands out to prepare for a workshop presenter who is arriving tonight. Opening my eyes, I lay in bed, looking out at the sunshine shimmering through the leaves, the view of the rocky cliffs behind them. I can hear the fountain in the middle of the lake, and behind it, the waterfall. The setting is a dream itself. Some mornings the horses wander below us in the meadow, looking for the sweetest, greenest grass at the edge of the woods. One of our sanctuaries here is the bottom of the waterfall, where, I'm told, visitors from the Caribbean have left offerings of honey and copper pennies. What other shrines have I visited? I've built some. In high school, a deer skull with horns on it came to me from somewhere or other. I had a carved bone or horn crone from Africa that I had found in a thrift shop, and a print of some Egyptian writing. I carved an ankh from wood with my pocket knife in about sixth grade. My love for hieroglyphics led me to astound and annoy my classmates with a made up language called "ltap" in fifth grade. When everyone else was obsessed with whether or not they were wearing Izods or Gloria Vanderbilt jeans, I was furiously copying keys to this new language, so we could all write notes to one another. The alligator and the swan were, I suppose, alchemically significant to my classmates. Who's to judge? Its what they were given to work with. My grandmother's house was a sanctuary. My father's parents are well traveled and for many years lived in a relatively modest home in suburban Philadelphia that felt opulent because of the objects that they had picked up on their journeys. A carved, wooden, two chambered flute from Yugoslavia had a wistful tune. When I was a teenager Grandma and Grandpa went to India and Kashmir and brought back a Tibetan prayer wheel, a soapstone figure of a lady, and a small scrap of yellow silk that was always displayed on their end table. I would feel the silk - it was some of the softest fabric I'd ever felt. Grandma opened the prayer wheel to show me the scrolls inside and then demonstrated the correct way to turn it..clockwise. And then there was the necklace... When I was fourteen my Grandmother and Grandfather were headed of to India and Kashmir. Grandmother called and said "Is there anything you are wishing for?" Skulls. I replied. Something with skulls on it. My mother didn't like it, but my Grandmother understood. So after the journey was done, Grandma sent a book full of pictures and her travel photos. My parents weren't interested. She had taken a photo, near the town of (...), of a lady with a giant bundle of textiles that she was carrying on her back through the passes of the Himalayas. I remember that woman's eyes, the fierceness and the strength, to carry that bundle. Grandma had brought me a necklace of shells made of yak bones. There were bowls at a monastery we visited shaped like shells, too, she said. "But I didn't think we could get them through customs." So I wore the skull necklace to school in suburban Cincinnati. Some of my classmates started the rumor that I was worshipping the devil. I told them the necklace was from my Grandmother. Last year, I packed the last of my belongings into storage, after selling the contents of the house I had lived in for thirteen years. I found the photo of the lady in (...). I put her in a larger box, wrapped in a beautiful scarf. Strange Sanctuaries 2013
Yale Notebooks Documents of pages from notebooks made while studying at Yale School of Art. Yale Notebooks 1993 Dialogical Self "While working on a second masters in Art Therapy my own struggles with C-PTSD surfaced, I struggled to balance, work, school, art and praxis. While working on my thesis about my shamanic experiences and my expressive performance work, I underwent EMDR and hypnotherapy. What emerged were flashbacks, dissociative states, emotional pain and complex body pain. I had to derail my thesis work to make a video about my intense experiences. This video become a dialogue between my artist; ego self, my sexual wounds, and a healer; a presence, what we call a shaman, or my own intuitive healing self, births what I am meant to be-come a wounded healer; an avant-garde shaman." "Damm girl what are you doing" Daily Authentic Movement Music "Damm girl what are you doing" Series. 2013 In Relationships We Can't Grasp The Intimacy 2011 We Can't Communicate 2011 How To Trust 2011 Chocolate Sublimation "Yes, the sounds I make, we make, at such moments of sensuous transcendence, the gasps, the cries of joy, the wordless moans, are like those you hear through the paper-thin walls of roadside motels. That's not sex or better than sex. It's just another wonderful moment a man or woman can share with all the same senses we use to register the sensory input of making love. Don't think of it as sublimation. Focus on what is, not what isn't. Just follow your pleasure. If one desire is not available at the moment, seize another. Sneak out of the office early and go to a movie. How dangerous. What fun. Have a Dove Bar. How wicked. seriously no think of sublimation-chocolate is not sex nor love. hot on the heels of a bar of chocolate? In Freud's classic theory, erotic energy is allowed a limited amount of expression, due to constraints of human society. Sublimation is the process of transforming libido into "socially useful" achievements, mainly art." Chocolate Sublimation 2010 Welcome to the Dollhouse "A 3 minute collage of performance videos from 1995-2004." Welcome to the Dollhouse 1995-2004 Still from "Welcome to the Dollhouse." 1995-2004 Still from "Welcome to the Dollhouse." 1995-2004 Still from "Welcome to the Dollhouse." 1995-2004 Sweet Facial Sweet Facial 2013
Elf I didn’t know I’d lost so much weight until my sisters started commenting on how my jeans were hanging off me, how I looked sickly. But if I’d been paying more attention, I’d have noticed all the skinny girls on campus starting to swarm around me. Suddenly, they all wanted to be my friend, or at least spend time near me making passive aggressive catty competitive comments. I found myself having whispered conversations with near strangers about not ever allowing themselves to get into a double-digit dress size. It was bewildering. I wasn’t sure what was happening to me. I was still eating nachos for every meal but I’d stopped having my period. I had diarrhea every day and cried all the time. This was 2002. Body Pos wasn’t a thing yet. [Image Description: A stucco white wall, with a variety of pictures, cork-board mat, with pinned cards and doodles, with a central hanging image, framed in a funky wooden frame. The image in the frame is a line drawing of a nude torso of a white, femme body, from the chest to the upper thighs, centered on a white background. There are faint, pink shading of the nipples, aureolas, and under the breasts, as well as pink marks, indicating scars, in different areas of the abdomen. The figure is wearing a dog-tag, around their neck, and dark trousers or skirt.] One day I was sitting with one of these girls at a coffee shop and a man in his late twenties approached us. “Excuse me,” he said to my companion. “I don’t mean to bother you, but I design video games and you are the perfect model for one of our characters.” He dug into his pocket for a business card. “I’d love to have you come in and take photos of you. The character is an elf. You’re exactly what we had in mind.” My companion turned her pale face upwards, pushed her brown hair out of her bright green eyes. “Sure,” she said taking his card nonchalantly. “That’s cool!” I said, after he walked away. “Are you going to do it?” She just shrugged and put the card in the pocket of her hoodie, as if this kind of thing happened to her all the time. I felt jealous. I wished that men approached me at coffee shops and asked me to be an elf. Why couldn’t that have happened to me? Up until that point in my life I’d only been asked to come into an alley with a man and watch him masturbate while his friend took photos. Many years later I would discover that I have an adrenal disorder that makes me lose and gain weight uncontrollably, as if someone has cast a spell on me. For my body, there is never a size that is okay – it’s always a sign of my disease. And no one wins; if I have a doctor that’s bigger, her advice on health is irrelevant. If I have a doctor that’s skinny, she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. No woman wins; we’re fucked either way. I know this is irrational, but a decade later I’m still jealous of that brown-haired girl with the big green eyes. I’ve been asked to do many things, to be many things, but I’ve still never been told that I’m a magical creature. Elf 2018
Buried 2016 Untitled 2008 Still photo of puppet created for one of (Emily's) stop motion animation and live action films. She can stand alone as an art piece as well. Pregnant Puppet 2011-2012 Stop Motion Animation Puppet made for the animation "Underneath". Still from "Underneath" 2009 Puppet With Veil 2009 Stop Motion Animation Puppet made for the animation "Underneath".
Masks
Not In The Eyes 2010 Small mask Emily made for a puppet. Puppet Mask 2010
Untitled # 1
Untitled # 1 from Emily Irvine on Vimeo.
Untitled # 1 2010 16mm Color Negative film, approx 5 minutes, Silent. Nails in the Jaw--secreted from the lip—bitten from the mind. They eat from the pot-- brewing their purged longings-- sweltering from the heat-- water trickling down their finger tips, into a puddle around them. The pool forms--sinking underneath. Stills from Untitled # 1 2010
[Image Description: Silhouette of a figure, depicted in black, facing a white or very pale purple light, in the center of a tunnel. The walls of the tunnel graduate towards the edges in a wavy ombre effect, from center light to darker purple and finally blue, with wave-like drawn details in black ink.] All Tied Up and No Place To Go 2018
Site and Sound .. Montages and Flickers Decoding stories through an altered reception. Sound waves and orbs come through the adapted surfaces by ways of rendered frequencies. There is also an element of illustrating what the gray area in the mind would try to convey, through alternative forms of communication. .. A black pool opened up at my feet … I dived in.. It had no bottom. NOELLE MALINE : SOUND MAPS Listening Device 2012 "Noelle Maline’s installation Sound Maps is inspired by a story told by her mother. As recounted by Noelle, her parents were traveling in Czechoslovakia in the late 70’s. Shortly after they arrived and en route from the airport to their hotel, the taxi driver firmly instructed her mother and father to only speak in whispers for the duration of their visit. As he explained, everything was bugged - - their hotel, the phone lines and, even the pipes running through." installation. sound and art Sound Maps 2012
"In 1970, it would have been another nineteen years before the fall of the Berlin Wall. The liberalization of Eastern Bloc was still a far off reality. In Czechoslovakia and other Eastern European countries, surveillance was woven into the fabric of everyday life and with deep psychological effects on people’s sense of freedom. During this time of history, the wall between East and West Germany came to symbolize the physical marker of the ‘Iron Curtain’ (later to be referred to as the ‘Wall of Shame’) blocking the movement of freedom. Czechoslovakia was one of several countries marked by Soviet occupation after World War II and, with restrictions on emigration throughout the Eastern Bloc." installation. sound and art Sound Maps 2012 "Metaphorically behind this Iron Curtain, stories were shuffled through the invisible threads that linked the intellectual minds and spirits of those alive and deceased. While literally, stories and voices were captured in wires through the mechanisms that took tabs on people’s thoughts, whereabouts, affiliations and future plans. Emigration and defection was still an active threat to the powers that be and, with any fluid movement of freedom under strict watch." signals frequency ink and paint on old photograph "Sound Maps touches this concept of freedom through references to different modes of communication, whether through stories secretly passed or layered in different planes of existence. While black ink is scribed over, across and in between faces and bodies captured within old black and white photographs, we understand that messages and information have been and are being passed. While images are frozen in time, the artist alludes to the idea that stories, voices and whispers are transmitted between tangible and intangible worlds. Similar to a secret agent collecting artifacts, a map of found images and pockets of objects builds a larger contextual story. We may not explicitly know the linear narrative, but we know the narrative is embedded within." fragments ink and paint on old photograph
"Interspersed throughout the installation, Maline’s larger collage and mixed-media works further illuminate and become anchor points where identity and mystery congeal as moments of creative discovery. Perhaps, we (as the viewer) stop to pay homage to a time in history when the movement of freedom was not accessible and, to the untold stories therein. Meanwhile, it may compel one to reflect on current cultural and political shifts that leave us questioning ‘freedom’ as a taught ideological point of departure and possible reunification, barrier and emigration, deflection and return."
The Relic is Right The Relic Is Right 2018 With The Fire Filmed in the childhood home of René Kladzyk (aka Ziemba) in Forestville, MI. With the Fire Symbolic Reference Statement: "The ramshackle yellow house on Cedar street is where most of my dreams are located. It's the setting of my fondest childhood memories, and my terrain of mythic fantasy. It has sat there, uninhabited and decaying for twenty years now, filled with everything that was there when I was seven. The dressers are filled with my clothes, my toys are on the floor, my babysitter's club books on the bookshelves. It's all there-- the couch I spent sick days lounging on, the first piano I played on, and its dying, subsumed by the mold, wasps, raccoons, and decay that call it home now." "For years I have fantasized about paying tribute to the universe of my imagination that is centered around the house in Forestville. I recently went to the house with Corey Tatarczuk,* a super-8 camera**, and a pile of clothing formerly owned by my grandmother Ziemba, including the white suit that my gramma was married in (tailored by my great-grandfather Ziemba). We approached the house as a museum of my lost childhood, with me as docent. I showed Corey and, through her camera, YOU the key sites of my youth. We studied the wall of heights, the verdant ivy covering the barn, and the sweet hugging canopy of the weeping willow tree. We zoomed on the merry-go-round across the street, skipped stones at the crick, and walked the short walk to Lake Huron’s deep blue waters." "In the video two little girls, ghosts of my sister and I, run about the property as friendly fire angels, the shade of their glow pulled from the color of the film burning at each end. These girls are dear friends of mine, the younger, Zola, and I share a birthday- she turned 7 on June 20th, the summer solstice of this year. Shortly after we filmed the little girls for the video, I had a dream where I traveled to Forestville and met my childhood self there. This tiny version of me said that I come to visit her often, and she wasn't surprised to see me." "The With the Fire music video operates as a part of a multisensory self-portrait, linked to my debut full-length album, Hope is Never. There is a fragrance component to this album, a limited batch incense created in partnership with Pretty Hole Collective. The incense contains lilacs, cedar, and lily of the valley from the yard of the yellow house on Cedar street. Its something to burn while listening, a material signifier of the creative capacity of destruction and loss. I recommend burning this fragrance while watching this video. But if you don't have this limited batch incense readily available, perhaps consider lighting a candle. You are marching in a funeral parade of lost childhood, you are strolling through an exhibit of decay nostalgia, you are a witness to something that is already gone and can only be retrieved or held through memory and shadow." You can go before this sore horizon blinds you I will show you where our burnished union leads to Its a home set on scattered kindling made to burn with the fire with the fire with the fire You can go before the sick dogs lick your eyes When you leave I will find a place the embers can die If you mourn something lost before you can find it In the fire in the fire in the fire If you pass through where the pounding rain cleanses you If you pass beyond the burning bridges split in two There's a church where all your dreams of death are sanctified With the fire with the fire with the fire" - René Kladzyk June 22nd, 2016 With The Fire 2016 A Door Into Ocean A Door Into Ocean 2017 "The sonics of "A Door Into Ocean" are meant to inhabit space in the same way that fragrance does; it’s not really a finite song, more an exploration of a place. It’s another oozy architecture. "A Door Into Ocean" may be listened to on repeat while stretching or relaxing, lingering in its mist; or as a fragment, a sample, a layer in a panoply of sounds. The intention of making a sonic fragrance is to play with perceptions of space and the body: to ground the listener in whatever space they inhabit while also transporting them, drawing their perception toward the realm of the intuitive and sensuous." "I was inspired by the linguistic system of the novel, A Door Into Ocean, which takes place on a planet solely inhabited by women, without landmass, only ocean. In this novel, there is no capacity for violence because their linguistic system understands identity through connection. There is no linguistic way to express inflicting something upon someone else, without necessarily also inflicting that thing upon yourself." "A Door Into Ocean" features the LIGO chirp, which is the sound of gravitational waves as two black holes collide into one another. Documentation of this sound last year was seen as a revolution in physics, evidence for Einstein’s theory of general relativity. If this “sonic fragrance mist” is a place, then our human location is fixed at a nexus in time and space. We are that point at which the ripple effect begins to spread outward; we can be very tenderly weaving the fabric of time." -Excerpts from "Meet Ziemba, The Musician Using Fragrance To Shape Time And Space" The Fader Some Don't Grow Some Don't Grow 2017
MOVING About "One day, a few years ago, after watching Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker again (I teach scenes from it, so I review it pretty frequently), I thought more about the final scene than I ever had before. At the end of the 163 minute film, in which three adult men (a Stalker/guide, a writer and a professor) search for a place that will supposedly give them what they most desire, we see the Stalker’s daughter reading and then sliding glasses across a table with her telekinetic powers. I’m not going to dive deeply into a reading of the whole film here not only because such a discussion would take up too much bandwidth, but also because MOVING grew from looking at that final scene as an isolated event." "I was impressed with this youg girl, watching her read, take a break, and then calmly test out her powers. And with the exception of the nearby whining dog, she is all alone, demonstrating her powers only for herself. At first, I simply wanted to shoot an updated version of this scene, but over time this idea grew into the desire to create different fictional scenes of the same length and simplicity, highlighting a variety of telekinetic actions. As I started to cast these roles in my mind, starting with performative friends like Lee Blalock and Lyra Hill, I found the fictionalizing of the scenes to be boring. I wanted the spaces and the movements to be true to the character, perhaps possible, and I wantedto get to know people through their choice of movement/object/scenario. I decided to shoot all real people playing themselves and grew to love the idea of collaborating with each one of them to envision what their telekinetic moment might be. I wanted to illuminating simple powers, or the small, everyday powers that symbolize or may eventually cause some kind of change. I wanted real people to reveal to me what their strength could be, as exemplified by what they move in the portrait and how. Finally, the support from the Chicago Digital Media Production Fund Grant, Voqal and Chicago Filmmakers provided me with the resources and encouragement I needed to approach people and shoot all twelve scenes. Why twelve? I wanted to shoot a number of these portraits and I instantly saw them playing back in my mind in a grid. I knew I would have to bring it all together somehow and a linear compilation didn't excite me as much as simultaneity. I love the chaos and harmony of multiplicity and I love the act of sorting through it all as a viewer, letting your eye drift from image to image. It can be overwhelming, but I think you can also find little moments of solitude within it. It was important for this project to go beyond the idea of isolated scenes and to eventually create a chorus. Perhaps if we’re loud enough and there are enough of us, people can hear us? Even if we’re saying different things? Oh, and four videos across and three down fits computer monitors and screen fairly well. Some of the subjects came to mind right away and others were recommended to me by friends and strangers after I put out a call for nominations. As the list of twelve started to form, it became increasingly important to me to get to know people better, to meet new people, to go to unfamiliar neighborhoods, and to learn more about everyone's ideas, careers, and philosophies. This project took my crew and I from Evanston to South Shore, from Pulaski to downtown, into colleges and bars, onto rooftops and into basement studios. A side note on my crew: As I started to schedule the shoots, I decided to work with only women on my crew (with the exception of my husband who built the website and assisted me on the Jenny’s shoot, mainly because there were kittens present). I wanted to break old habits and challenge myself to give women the opportunity to collaborate, gain more experience, and get paid. Even if I barely made a dent in the much much larger problem of inequality on film sets, I ended up with a fantastic, collaborative crew who was up for any challenge. Each scene required a bit of improvisation, timing, experimentation, resourcefulness, and logic (some also requiring puppetry and extremely strong magnets)." "The act of meeting and recording the subjects of these portraits was just as important as the videos we were going to make together. This realization spawned the inclusion of the interviews and behind-the-scenes photos. I knew that if I were viewing this project that I would want a hyper-linked experience offering me a chance to meet each subject, hear their voices and take a glimpse into the collaborative process. I also found great joy in the process of making this project and so I wanted to attempt to share it. There is such power in collaboration, play, asking questions, and listening. Telekinesis seemed less important as time went on. The practical effects were certainly fun to plan and arrange, but in the end, they amount to merely the appearance of power. I found the real power and the real magic in the mix of personalities coming together and learning from each other. It sounds corny, but it’s so true. I believe in positive and productive energies. I believe in movement on the smallest scale. We can hold those energies within us and we can express them outwardly. We can move people emotionally and we can move matter. Sometimes we don’t have or need the words or the physical strength. Sometimes we simply think, look or emanate...and something happens. Perhaps MOVING provides a chance us to slow down, focus on our energy and ask ourselves how we might express or depict our power. What could we move and why? How simple can it be? How big? How every day? How fantastic? Who is it for? I still have a lot of questions and that's wonderful because asking them is my favorite thing to do." Lori Felker, May 2016 Patrice excerpts and screen shot:
"I'm trying to figure out how to phrase this next question, because I don't really know what I want to ask. I'm wondering if there's anything in your life where, and maybe it's your relationship to the city that you've been in your whole life, but something about being a woman, and not just a mother, but just you as an individual. Has that given you a particular kind of strength or perspective? Have you experienced particular setbacks? And do you even think much about it, or are you just Patrice? There are certain parts, yeah. I think I would be a lot different, and this is a strange thing to say, but the feminine part of who I am is strangely connected to me having a daughter. As you know, there is an abundance of male testosterone in the house, and I think having a daughter and being a mom, had I just had boys, I probably would have been a different kind of person, a different kind of mom. But she gives me just enough edge to remind me to tune in to some softer things, because I didn't really growing up, I was a different kind of girl. I didn't like playing with Barbie dolls and stuff like that, so I was kinda worried when my daughter came along. We played dolls and stuff like that, but it was arts and crafts and more stuff like that, more creative things. I think she's helped me stay in tune with being creative." L[3]^2 (Lee Blalock) excerpts and screen shot
"(Sarcastically) What do you think about women? [laughter] I keep questioning myself as to how to ask a question about women, or if someone wanted to interpret it as femininity or just the question of gender even. Not just "What's it like to be a woman?", but do you consider your gender? Are you forced to? Do you want to? Does it play an active role? I think part of my not being able to do what I want... If people see me and see the package and then expect less than I would normally be able to do, or anybody else would be able to do, that kind of strips me of power. My reaction to that has always been to be faceless and to be bodyless, be genderless and be raceless and all that stuff. I know that's a political statement to make, but I think it's also a really nice option to have, if you can have it, if you just want to get stuff done. I don't know. It's hard to say when you try to build bodies that aren't encased in viscera or whatever. It's sort of hard to put a gender assignment on that. I think it's a great idea to do projects that give voice to people who don't have them. At the same time, I know that I've turned away from stuff that emphasizes what I look like, what genitalia I have, just because it reduces me to maybe two or three descriptors. I'm fluid. I'll do the things that feel right for me and I'll turn away from the things that feel reductive. I don't know how else to say that." The catalyst and inspiration for Lori's MOVING project: Andrei Tarkovsky Stalker - Final Scene
I Hate My Purse: Based on the essay by Nora Ephron "I recently created this piece based on an essay by Nora Ephron entitled, "I Hate My Purse" from her collection of personal essays: "I Feel Bad About My Neck and Other Thoughts on Being a Woman." Eventually I hope to make a series of 1-2 minute films based on Nora Ephron and her writing. This project was made out of fond affection for Ephron and the desire to celebrate her work." I Hate My Purse: Based on the essay by Nora Ephron Produced, Directed and Starring Genevieve Mercatante Filmed by Justin Koleszar 2013 I don't care (I love it) Medly - Pam Donaldson Q:What do you call a bag of peanut brittle and dentures? A: My entire weekend! I don't care (I love it) Medly - Pam Donaldson 2014 Art Lipstick Gouache 2007 Lipstick Sharpie 2007 Anna 2009 Blue Woman 2012 We're Okay 2009 Anna & Stacy 2009 there ain't nothin' to do in the dirt 2009
|
I put on warm clothes and hopped on my bike for Bald Hill. There was nothing left of the fog but what harm was there in enjoying the January sun even if alarmingly unseasonable? Along the bike path a Red Tail swooped off a power line into the grass, a Downy Woodpecker hopped around the backside of a tree by the trail.
|
I stop and draw a tree. It is not any great study, I’m hungry, the high sun has washed out all subtlety, and my attention span has left with the sparrows. Sometimes it's enough to do one tiny thing. Back on the bike path the horses linger along the fence line wearing blankets that make them look like monks. A harrier flies over and lands in the middle of the field where there may have been a mouse. |
Pearl from sierra dufault on Vimeo.
beauty from sierra dufault on Vimeo.
southern girl from sierra dufault on Vimeo.
Featuring visual art, fiber art, writing, spoken word, music, video and performance, in contemplation of isolation and femininity.
What is it to identify as femme/construct femininity, in this current moment?
What is it to navigate femininity through chronic conditions, trauma, heartbreak?
What does it mean to get all dressed up, with nowhere to go?
*Some work featured may be nsfw.
May 2018
April 2018
March 2018
February 2018