How Quickly Things Fall Apart


 
 

 Through the house’s corridors flows nostalgic breath, air currents disturbing the long settled dust. The material structures, contents, and activities create distinct sensations. The lingering smells from a well-used kitchen, the mustiness of disuse, the well-worn woodwork touched time after time, each life lived within creates and strengthens structures/habits/patterns, creating ripples in personal realities, tied to action and function. Individual rooms hold significance, but truly it is the moments in-between, colored by the sensual, that hold the longing of home. 

 

How Quickly Things Fall Apart in Your Absence (in two parts), 2020

Corrugated cardboard, PVA glue, hot glue, charcoal, graphite, acrylic paint, joint compound, latex caulk, wire, acrylic yarn, LED spot lights, porcelain, oxides, pigment. Dimensions variable.

 

In Rilke’s words on the diffusion of the intimate memories of lost homes, “Indeed as I see it now, the way it appeared in my child’s eye, it is not a building, but is quite dissolved and distributed inside me…conserved in fragmentary form.”

 

Such places remain written and hidden in our recesses, they carry weight and space, influencing and disrupting in their invisible presence, fragmenting waking existence. It is this fragmentation that my homes speak to, in the shifting of light and dark, the warped structures, and the fragments in motion and out of context. Ruinous and vague, they become universal, a place to dream, intangible and unreal.