Finding,home

Undergraduate Thesis Exhibition Installation

wall panels, wood, paint, ceramic, string, light

May 2017

accompanying statement/poem:

Maybe my work is related to the house I grew up in. 

A departure, a denial.

Lived in and messy. 

Seasons of different infestations.

Maybe that's why I loved being outside so much, I always talked about running away. 

Maybe it was the hoarding, and the uncomfortableness of the skin you inhabit, and the space your skin inhabits, and the way you smell. 

It's filled with dread, and you are too. 

The space where shirts are ironed and cookies are baked, sheets cleaned, and pictures hung, but that didn't happen.

Maybe it's the space you live in, and the space you ultimately die in. 

You died in. 

We sold, they tore down. 

My pockets are full, and the burden is so heavy I can't seem to walk anymore.

Ultimately, it's the recurring horrors and the ghosts that keep me awake.

Through passive hours and traversing memories and finally understanding that home doesn't exist.