SCULPTURE & TEXTILES

Through this piece, I sought to explore the relationship between my identity as a woman and my identity as someone working in sculpture, a traditionally male-dominated field. I did this by using masculine-coded materials to create a skirt, a conventionally feminine piece of clothing. Denim, leather, canvas, and assorted hardware comprise the majority of my materials, all chosen for their societal associations with masculinity, specifically in trade occupations such as carpentry and welding—skills I utilize in my sculpture practice. Using these materials, I created stereotypically fem-coded elements—beading, pleating, bows—through hand stitching and weaving, traditionally female-associated arts. I chose to lean into these elements not simply to contrast the materials, but also to embrace the femininity so many women had to cast off in order to get their foot in the door of traditionally male occupations. I am a woman. I am a sculptor. And I can claim both identities without casting off the other.

As an artist, the act of creation is how I explore and reflect on myself and the world I find myself in. Though I begin most pieces with a specific concept in mind, I find my artistic process is often wholly transformative—meaning shifting and morphing as I spend more time with an idea. I consider the discovery, exploration, introspection, and innovation in my practice to be of equal importance to any finished product. 

The thing about such a nebulous concept like balance, is that every aspect of my process seemed to reflect it. Initially, my concept was largely driven by my experience as a dancer. In particular, Swan Lake’s narrative themes of good and evil, victorious conquest and absolute defeat, and the ballet’s strikingly high contrast black and white aesthetic were hugely influential in my formal and representational choices. But as I got into the meat of the project, new forms of contrast continued to be revealed in the details of my process. Working with such a challenging material was a constant battle between its possible potential and unending constraints. With every stitch I made in the delicate folds, I thought of how I was transforming accordion blinds, a middle class staple, into a piece of fine art. How my mom taught me to sew as a child, and how her mom taught her, and how her family’s practice of poverty born necessity was now my artistic choice. I thought of the tension between the ordinary and overlooked, and the fine arts.