I’m bound to my environment and use it to explore the subtleties and differences in words that reflect my own humanity. At one time I believed in knew the exact location of every acorn cap and acorn I collected from under an Oak tree. Now I don’t, and as beneficial as that is, it causes me great emotional pain. The self-assurance and faith in a rational system of mapping, numbering, collecting, cataloging and documenting collapsed because of a missing acorn cap. The instance of pain that I interpreted as failure, became a profound moment that shifted Fuller & Grand away from an honest attempt at an irrational undertaking into an examination of how process defines words. A simple careless mistake has made me realize my project Fuller & Grand isn’t about randomness found in natural events, but the meaning and relationship of value, time and labor.
As I work, I find myself drawn to words imbedded in questions that develop out of my work practice. Essential to that endeavor is attaching meaning to those words that exemplify the space in-between the gestures of my art. The physical marks and remnants left over from my project-based art is the result of an embodied experience manifest over time. What I find fascinating and compelling in my new project Witmer Park, are the mistakes that reveal themselves over time because of lapses in attention and focus. How do they act as a barrier and facilitator? Why do I feel compelled by questions I can’t answer and driven by small events that happen despite structures I create to avoid them? There is a constant friction between the need to answer these questions and the longing for solitude brought about by repetitive work. It is through this state of flux that I try to come to terms with my humanity and the need to find order in the world around me.