Show Statment

The work in this show is a selection of paintings and sculptures from the last year, but, with sound, the show also honors the passage of ancestral knowledge. Through the work, I consider my relationship with the forces of nature and the spirits of this unceded land. I have thought about what rises from grief, the potential of it. From death. From destruction. The exhale. Or perhaps, it is more so the pause between breaths.

The paintings themselves emerged from a contemplation on or maybe many conversations with trees. Specifically, trees left standing in the wake of destruction — fire, storm, and human. Fire has been a powerful teacher in this work, leading me along paths of creation and loss, passion and grief. And, once I started painting, I felt called to pull at the trees, bringing them into physical space. I have often thought of pillars, of sentinels, of witches, when I have thought of these trees. Foundations or landmarks along the way.

I have been thinking of the work in this show as residing under the motif of Szept*. There is a lot here, in this word, for me. Szept, whisper. Psithurism** and prayers carried on the wind. The sound installation of my grandmother’s poems holds these meanings, honoring folk traditions and ancestral wisdom. 

This show falls on what would have been my grandmother’s hundredth birthday. She was a quietly powerful woman, and as I translate her ecologically focused songs and poems, I have learned how she rooted herself in nature. I have learned how my work is a continuation of the words she wrote throughout her life.

Listen to the clear breath of the wind. 
[…]
Silence dispels regret and tears, 
Silence tells you to forget. 
You will understand life has its sense. 
You will understand, as I have.***

What has burned and what remains. What is left standing. And how does it stand. These have been my guiding questions. I don’t claim to know — I just continue the journey through. I’ve been told that is what my work sometimes feels like. Walking through desolation, seeking, not without hope. And so, I suppose, after all, it is grief that the work is about, and finding a path through it. 

I have made this work for myself, for my ancestors, and for you, viewer. A place to pause — to linger in that space between breaths, where perhaps the whispers can be heard. A place to depart or emerge from.

_

* Polish. Meaning whisper. Also relating to the Polish folk healing tradition of szeptuni/szeptunki or whisperers.
** (Obsolete) The sound of wind in the trees and rustling of leaves.
*** From Banalne Słowa, or Simple Words, by Zofia Brodzikowska.