ARTIST STATEMENT
My practice investigates the repetitive processes of embroidery, knitting, digital image-making using Photoshop, and how they are similar in their use of mechanical systems. While embracing systematic processes and creating art as though I am a machine, I explore the dichotomy between fast-paced digital technologies and the time-consuming practices of cross-stitching, knitting, and other needlework. Repetitive actions have the ability to make the artist into a mindless machine. Similar to how our society can get lost in the daily consumption of digital technology, I mirror this obsession through my laborious approach to making art. My obsessive repetitive practice allows for mind-numbing escape, as well as deep exploration of the subconscious and a constant reminder of what makes me human.
I Come From a Long Line of Machines, the title of my MFA thesis and my exhibition for the Ranger Station Are Gallery includes works from my thesis exhibition, as well as new works that continue to explore approaches to making art using systemic processes similar to that of a programmed machine. The works for this exhibition were created using modes of systematic production, both digital and handmade, with an emphasis on laborious, time-consuming processes that illuminate the importance of patience, persistence, and hard work. Instead of becoming reliant on computers and other advanced technologies that are accelerating the speeds of production and consumption alike, I choose to look back to centuries old practices that have been passed down through generations of women. Slowing down my process reminds me of a simpler time, without the luxury of instant gratification, and allows for the appreciation of repetitive, consistent dedication, to ones craft. On the contrary, these obsessive laborious techniques connect to the ways in which our current society has become consumed and captivated by digital technologies.
ARTIST STATEMENT
My work often addresses our complex relationship to the natural world. Much of my recent work specifically addresses what we have lost and what we still stand to lose—plants, animals, and wild spaces. I am particularly interested in the discourse of Natural History - a discipline that straddles social & cultural theory and science. This work came together after my science communications mentor Jay Ingram gifted me his entire collection of Natural History journals (1968 to 2014). While lugging these boxes of bound volumes around, I started to uncover that all this knowledge means little if we don’t do something with it. They very much felt like heavy objects to be used to press flowers or raise my computer monitor. Inside these journals were articles about climate change from the late 60s, stories on tigers at risk of extinction beside articles on the the Lapps (people) of Sweden.
There is also the very real issue of eco-grief. Sadness and devastation at what is happening to our natural world, and feeling powerless to do much about it. While at times this work serves as a warning, at other times it is an elegy, mourning the loss of something irreplaceable. In “Box 1-3” I use found objects to recreate and reframe how we might encounter this kind of display in a natural history museum, a display that doesn’t strip the politics from the objects.
In “Southern Resident Killer Whale Matrilines: J, K & L Pods,” I have embroidered some of the female orca elders on the branches of the lungs. This family is facing many threats as an endangered species, but I wanted to acknowledge the calf born in 2018 to J35, who carried it on the surface for 17 days mourning its loss. If you try to find any scientific data on this calf, it is not there because scientific protocol is to only give a name and number to the calf if it has been with the pod for one year.
Some scientists estimate that 150-200 species of plant, insect, bird and mammals become extinct every 24 hours. “150/day” takes the form of 150 species I’ve encountered the Fraser Valley and places them in sterile petri dishes to examine. As a whole, each one paints a picture of what it might be like to lose 150 species a day.
My work often addresses our complex relationship to the natural world. Much of my recent work specifically addresses what we have lost and what we still stand to lose—plants, animals, and wild spaces. I am particularly interested in the discourse of Natural History - a discipline that straddles social & cultural theory and science. This work came together after my science communications mentor Jay Ingram gifted me his entire collection of Natural History journals (1968 to 2014). While lugging these boxes of bound volumes around, I started to uncover that all this knowledge means little if we don’t do something with it. They very much felt like heavy objects to be used to press flowers or raise my computer monitor. Inside these journals were articles about climate change from the late 60s, stories on tigers at risk of extinction beside articles on the the Lapps (people) of Sweden.
There is also the very real issue of eco-grief. Sadness and devastation at what is happening to our natural world, and feeling powerless to do much about it. While at times this work serves as a warning, at other times it is an elegy, mourning the loss of something irreplaceable. In “Box 1-3” I use found objects to recreate and reframe how we might encounter this kind of display in a natural history museum, a display that doesn’t strip the politics from the objects.
In “Southern Resident Killer Whale Matrilines: J, K & L Pods,” I have embroidered some of the female orca elders on the branches of the lungs. This family is facing many threats as an endangered species, but I wanted to acknowledge the calf born in 2018 to J35, who carried it on the surface for 17 days mourning its loss. If you try to find any scientific data on this calf, it is not there because scientific protocol is to only give a name and number to the calf if it has been with the pod for one year.
Some scientists estimate that 150-200 species of plant, insect, bird and mammals become extinct every 24 hours. “150/day” takes the form of 150 species I’ve encountered the Fraser Valley and places them in sterile petri dishes to examine. As a whole, each one paints a picture of what it might be like to lose 150 species a day.
Fraser Valley Biennale March 2nd - 31st, 2019
Join us for the second edition of our 2019 Fraser Valley Biennale at the Ranger Station Gallery (98 Rockwell Drive,
Harrison Hot Springs, BC) with the Kent Harrison Arts Council (KHAC) on Sunday, March 3rd from 2pm-4pm.
This exhibition will run from March 2nd - 31st, 2019.
The 2019 Fraser Valley Biennale is curated by Adrienne Fast, Curator of Art & Visual Culture at The Reach. The exhibition
will tour to multiple venues throughout the Fraser Valley in 2019, concluding at The Reach Gallery Museum for
the Fall/Winter Season of exhibitions (October through December).
Harrison Hot Springs, BC) with the Kent Harrison Arts Council (KHAC) on Sunday, March 3rd from 2pm-4pm.
This exhibition will run from March 2nd - 31st, 2019.
The 2019 Fraser Valley Biennale is curated by Adrienne Fast, Curator of Art & Visual Culture at The Reach. The exhibition
will tour to multiple venues throughout the Fraser Valley in 2019, concluding at The Reach Gallery Museum for
the Fall/Winter Season of exhibitions (October through December).