more art work

It took me so long to update this blog, and now I am posting two days in a row... there is just so much to catch up on.





I am posting some pictures of three sculptures that I am working on right now. They aren't completely assembled yet, which is why they look all wonky. These syringes will be hung from a tall ceiling with the tar pieces directly below them, so it looks like black liquid will be pouring out of the bottom of them. Also, each syringe will have a glass bulb sitting on top, half full of black liquid. The people here at the company think I am a little weird, or rather, that my artwork is. Okay, probably both. But it is a little hard to explain the story behind them when I don't speak the language. Even so, it is still weird.





These were inspired by a couple of rather personal things. The idea came to me while staying at St. Urban, which is the revamped insane assylum. As many of you know, both of my parents died from overdosing on the medications that were supposed to help them... My mother on purpose and my father by accident. I have thought a lot about the fine line between healing and hurting and am not so convinced that western medication is all it is cracked up to be. My family tree is pretty ugly with mental illness and I worry a lot about my own menal health, as I have battled a lot from depression. Feel like I am doing pretty good despite the bad genes, but it is still something I can't help but consider. So in a way these three pieces are a family portrait of sorts. I am not sure what the statute of limitations is on making bad art about personal tragedy, but I am sure my friend and art nemisis, Gordon, will let me know when to just get over it. I figure if Sophie Calle can make art about a breakup she had a decade before I can indulge in art about this for a while.