"Wanna' Go For a Ride Little Girl?" "My, Tara" and "The Shack " Winthrop University Rock Hill, South Carolina April 2015
Artist Talk / April 2015
Rutledge Gallery Rock Hill, South Carolina
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAjrrEzKF8A
Rutledge Gallery Rock Hill, South Carolina
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HAjrrEzKF8A
Abstract This thesis statement is a reflection on my thesis installation work, Vulnus: Wanna’ Go for a Ride Little Girl?, The Shack, and My Tara. This statement describes the background motivation, influences, and processes that led to its completion. Vulnus originates from the Latin meaning wound or injury. The Vulnus body, a trinity of dollhouses transformed by found objects, comprises the constructed assemblage. As an artist employing precision placement and thereby composing miniature theatrical tableaus, I weave a theme in this triptych. Vulnus represents memories of vulnerability, danger, and trauma. Vulnus embodies found objects that speak of people’s lives. Items and treasures collected are repurposed as cues for visual conversation. Through the temporary installations, I aim to raise awareness and initiate conversations concerning human welfare and safety.
VULNUS
Introduction
Vulnus is a body of work comprised principally of found objects. Artist Thornton Dial believed “everything in the world is art” (105). He stated that in his life experience, “You walk through life, every step you make you pick up something. You pick a whole bunch of stuff” (103). I do the same. With found objects and materials, I make constructions that express the almost burdensome concern for peoples’ lives and safety I have felt since I was a young child.
Thus, assemblage art is the primary medium for my artistic expression.
I consistently create theatrical compositions through collection and juxtaposition of contrasting objects, such as a bone and a damaged unicorn, or an identification card alongside stamps of wolves. Vulnus, the Latin word meaning a wound or an injury, is appropriate for this body of work, which consists of a trinity of doll houses transformed by hundreds of pieces of found objects that fill their interiors; these personally symbolic multi-media assemblages represent memories of vulnerability, danger, and trauma. The three main assemblages, entitled “Wanna’ Go for a Ride Little Girl?”, “The Shack,” and “My Tara,” respectively form the body of the Vulnus installation.
Initially, I thought that artists should only make art for themselves. I did not believe in any responsibility of an artist to the public. However, in time I arrived at the epiphany that yes, an artist does have an individual civic duty to serve the people through art. Artworks from Ancient through Contemporary Art movements were, and continue to be, influential and inspirational
to people and communities to this day. Every artist has a different agenda and belief associated with their artwork. My sense of duty is to elicit care and support of my global brethren through my artwork; that is the obligation to humanity that I hold myself to. Through my assemblages, it is my intention to offer the viewer’s visual connections to painful or taboo issues, emotions, or experiences that welcome interaction and discussion.
As a sensitive person, I could never become accustomed to seeing others being hurt or wounded emotionally, mentally, physically, or even socially. Habituate and the variation, habituation, became the catalyst words during the formation of Vulnus. The definition of the verb indicates that someone has adjusted or familiarized themselves with an event or place. At times, people are snared into dangerous situations and some of those people then experience the Stockholm syndrome, which is an extreme form of habituation.
While in the process of assembling, it appears to me to be appropriate to hope that there will be less emotional and physical wounding, since “[O]ne’s conception of one’s identity is largely based on one’s past experiences, present situation, and future goals,” (Gulledge 92). Thus, as
I work, I think of people that have experienced, are experiencing, or may come to experience abduction, abuse, and trauma.
Impressions
Thinking of personal vulnus relates to my three distinct memories of vulnerability and danger. First, at age four, being asked if I wanted to take a ride with two male strangers in their vehicle and experiencing the onset of extreme fear. Second, being subjected to sexual abuse. Third, living through a dangerous two and a half month period of enforced isolation. Experiencing events so terrifying creates deep emotional wounds. After trauma, one can stagnate, overwhelmed by residual vulnus. But there is victory if one can aim for courageous growth and resiliency through perseverance after a harrowing incident. This is true both on a personal and community basis. For example, in a recent global event, Boko Haram militants kidnapped over three hundred girls from their boarding school in the Chibok village of Nigeria. This story still continues to unfold. The phrase “Bring Our Girls Back” has gone viral worldwide, and hopeful prayers continue for the girls, their families, and their community. In the case of this and other news stories, communities have come together after a horrendous happening or dramatic event. Global events tend to leave indelible marks on individuals, cultures, and societies. Individuals and communities may experience the fragility inherent in nature and life. Yet after a traumatic exposure, a more sensitive perspective may be attained, and habituation evaded, through the creation and appreciation of art.
One traumatic social phenomenon that I am concerned about is the ever-growing industry of human trafficking. Statistically, over 2,300 people go missing daily in the United States. Charlotte, North Carolina, where I reside, happens to be one of the top ten cities known for trafficking in the United States. This fact seems to go under the radar, and I fear people have a false sense of safety. Young females are estimated to be the most abducted and coerced into brothels and sex slavery. Quite often, runaways are "rescued" by predators or pimps within the first few days of having left their homes or former lives. Kidnapped or lured away, children, teenagers, and adults find themselves confined and constrained, and then submit to living in complete oppression and sequestration.
Intentions
Through the repetitive application of advertisements for "Missing Persons" within Vulnus and other creations, my intention has been to raise awareness about such issues. I want to address abduction(s), abuse(s) associated with kidnapping(s), and the reality of widespread human trafficking. The motivation for using “Missing Persons” advertisements comes from a true story told to me by a dear friend, Martha Logan. This story involves her daughter Kelly, now twenty-six, who helped to rescue a “Missing” little girl. The little girl was a classmate of Kelly’s in kindergarten. One day Kelly was surprised to see the picture of her friend on the back of a milk container, and told her Mommy immediately. The fortunate little girl was reunited with her family shortly after Martha alerted the appropriate authorities. The little girl had been abducted by a friend of the family and relocated to California. This true story had a happy ending as the little girl resumed life with her real family.
Influences
Occurring around the same time as the Logan Family incident, my Father, a shoe salesman, relocated to Los Angeles to pursue a career in acting/modeling. Tools for his profession included fashion, makeup, and props which had an effect on me. I learned about promoting one’s self,
as he frequently mailed newly updated composite cards to me growing up. My mother (an artist and interior decorator) exposed me to arrangement and composition, fabricating her smaller scale versions of "Louise Nevelson" wooden assemblages (Figure A). She encouraged playful exploration of clothing, décor, jewelry, and shoes. A profound and lasting memory I have is of the freedom given in my formative years to explore this world of ornament. It is not surprising, then, that the sight of certain adornments, clothing, furniture, objects, shoes, and even toys trigger associations with distinct memories.
Additionally, through exploration as a toddler while accompanying my mother to choose furniture for her clients, I was inadvertently led to a love of vignettes and arrangements of furniture in antique warehouses. I would go on adventures attempting to open every drawer in every dresser, searching for leftover contents in the furniture. I learned the rewards of looking for goodies and treasures left in drawers or behind curiosity cabinet doors. In particular, exposure to Victorian accessories, clothing, items, and furniture remaining from that culture led to a fascination with the Victorian Era.
The Victorians had an engaging pastime as they presented small to large collections of things, usually in cabinets and display boxes, under glass. Collectors, educators, medical professionals, scientists, and world travelers would house wondrous displays of various ancient relics, animals, bones, insects, flora and fauna, scientific samples, and other oddities in such cabinets. Cabinets of Curiosity had actually originated in Europe during the Early Renaissance times. Sixteenth-century scholars and very wealthy collectors utilized whole rooms to create Memory Theaters, where one could examine the nature and various elements of the world. This habit was continued and expanded upon in Victorian culture.
Inspired by an adoration for the Renaissance and Victorian eras, "The Infinite Look of He and She," an assemblage fabricated for Professor Shaun Cassidy's class, is a direct homage to the Cabinet of Curiosity. "The Infinite Look of He and She" resembles an open fortress, which is displayed on a faded, black, early twentieth-century sailing trunk. The chest is erected on its side three-quarters of the way open so one may see the floral blue paper lining the interior. It is centered so as to offer the viewer the possibility to walk around it for a full view of the front and back. Anyone can approach and observe "The Infinite Look of He and She." Upon closer inspection the variety of attachments applied tranform the skeletal architectural structure into the now curious fortress: insects, jewelry, feathers, and fragments of ceramics, rocks, shells, and special memorabilia (Figure 01-01B).
"The Infinite Look of He and She" is an open version of a Memory Theater. The fortress contains six filled interior rooms on each side. Applying the objects evoked in me a sense of nostalgia, and the empty hull has been transformed into a rich tapestry of bits and pieces to metaphorically represent thoughts of my home. This piece invites the viewer to question the differences between men and women and the many expectations and roles associated with them. The left half of the open fortress represents the female existence while the right half represents the male way of life.
This merits a comment about one of the artists that influenced me: Mariam Schapiro. In the 1970s, she communicated her views on the issues associated with the expectation(s) and the roles of women. In observing and reading about Schapiro’s perspective, her support of women impresses me today. I associate her socially active part as a female artist with my experienced realities, which were calling subconsciously to unearth themselves for a theatrically dramatic display within the creations for Vulnus. I had long forgotten having studied Shapiro’s work in an art history course, yet unconsciously her work had helped inform my creative vision. Schapiro worked creatively with Judy Chicago in California in the early 1970s. They teamed up together as Feminists creating exhibitions and performance art in support of their surrounding community of women.
"The Infinite Look of He and She" also echoes the boxed artworks of Joseph Cornell, formerly a collector who created his contemporary versions of surreal box theaters. In his collages of unique objects, Cornell inserted trinkets and treasures into boxes and then gifted these dreamlike artworks to friends. Looking at Cornell’s work, one wonders about his artistic influences and preferences. Surrealist artist Salvador Dali questioned logic through his bizarre juxtaposition of contents. Dada artist Man Ray also possibly swayed and enthused Cornell with his bizarre use of objects.
One other artist who influenced me is contemporary Columbian artist Doris Salcedo. Through collections of personal belongings and furnishings, she exposed truthful stories of her country’s political prisoners. Dividing furniture and reassembling it with human hair delicately sewn to reconnect the pieces, the artist created art that spoke of people’s suffering, even martyrdom. Salcedo's displays of furniture owned by political prisoners were seen as residual evidence of life before imprisonment. Numerous fellow countrymen became "Missing People," hauled off, never to be seen or heard from again. Salcedo effectively called attention to the ominous events, and to her firsthand experience of the vulnus of living in such politically violent times.
An inspirational installation of Doris Salcedo, featured at the Turkish Art Festival in the 2003 Istanbul Biennial, utilized chairs. Entitled 1550 Chairs Stacked Between Two City Buildings, it was an exhibition of over fifteen hundred chairs piled several stories high, suggesting the struggle of her homeland and countrymen caught in the then precarious global economy (Figure B). Researching Salcedo's work led me to the realization of the possibilities for expression through objects. Some objects can convey many messages or metaphors for viewers. I developed a personal symbolic vocabulary shaped by means of bed posts, bones, bricks, children's shoes and paraphernalia, dog leads, doll houses, dresses, hair, and a plethora of natural elements. Individual objects can convey such different meanings viewer to viewer. For instance, bones and bricks could represent either stability or instability, depending on one’s perspective.
Another influence on my work is the Mexican artist Frieda Kahlo. In her lifetime, there was emotional vulnus after her trauma(s), including her accident and subsequent chronic pain, and an unsuccessful delivery of her only child. The heartaches expressed symbolically in her paintings have long been understood by many of her viewers. One can clearly see her emblematic signs of agony in, for example, A Few Small Nips Passionately in Love, My Nurse and I, or Roots, (Figure C). A visual vocabulary of includes symbolic in images such as the use of human anatomy, figures, hair, nature, furniture, costumes, and dresses.
Similarly, Syrian assemblage artist and sculptor Diana Al-Hadid creates a timeless fragility through the use of architecture, archeology, and object-based imagery. Al-Hadid exhibits the installations in a way to make them appear in various states of decay. Through the exploration of recycled materials, Al-Hadid creates architectural settings suggestive of both ancient and future dwellings. Viewing Al-Hadid’s artworks is similar to seeing folds within a velvet draping or the ascension of an ornate and winding stairway, or intricate lace cut out of a Victorian Valentine card ((Figure D). I understand the relevance of my response to Al-Hadid’s works, which lies mostly in the absence of living beings. Her works seem abandoned and devoid of life, as if they are the remaining ruins of a once thriving civilization now gone.
My Tara
Within Vulnus, "My Tara" is an assemblage set within a wooden doll house that I originally discovered at an antique mall in Mooresville, North Carolina. The two story dwelling has six rooms, an attic, and a gabled roof line with a pediment on the house front that bears resemblance to that of an old Southern Antebellum home. The yellowed wooden exterior has detailed faux plastic windows on each side, and five evenly placed windows for each room. Some might agree it is even reminiscent to that of the "Tara" plantation seen in the classic movie "Gone with the Wind." My natural response was to rush and purchase this miniature version of this famously iconic home. Thus began the official initial planning for the thesis Vulnus. The artistic vision for my thesis work had arrived, and the mission developed (Figures 03 – 03C).
Going back to Schapiro and her focus on male and female roles, "My Tara" is a present-day version of Schapiro’s assemblage generally known as The Feminist Dollhouse, but actually titled Womanhouse. The assemblage "My Tara" is similar to her Womanhouse in content and medium, but is visually more aggressive (Figure E).
The exterior of "My Tara" is liberally tiled with “Missing People” advertisements on both the front and sides of the home. I try to call attention to the number of people reported missing. Prevalently among those who go missing are teenagers, and most commonly they are female. Many runaways and random people experience abduction(s), abuse(s), and being forced into human trafficking and sex slavery. The doll house while whimsically adorned, represents the illusion that many runaways fall under as they think that changing their residence will provide their empty or dramatic home lives a new sense of ease, fulfillment, and satisfaction.
The front of My Tara has a porch with four plain columns sparingly speckled with mold. There are French doors that incompletely painted in a decorative manner, which makes the house look abandoned, as if life had been interrupted. A miniature red metal bicycle of an imagined character is propped on the porch, abandoned by its owner. Interruption invokes the lives of those abducted, who have left behind their unfinished lives. As predators and pedophiles are known to employ a variety of tricks, games, toys, and even sweets to lure their young prey, the front porch is decorated with an offering of candy.
The roof line of “My Tara” has a glittery miniature house stacked in front of a deer antler that encompasses a turtle shell containing a delicate miniature mermaid vignette. On the opposite side, there is a black and brown striped fur pelt opposite a plastic French feminist cartoon ashtray and an abstract painting of a crane on the roof. At the back of the roof line is plastic fantasy female toy peering at any approaching viewer. The use of animal antlers, fur, and turtle shell is an indirect inference to the hunting of man for prey, with the aim of pleasure or reproduction. Additionally, animals and humans have experienced forms of habituation in captivity, acclimating to perilous situations as a mechanism for survival. Various perceptions of the diverse roles of women are represented by objects; the Feminist ashtray depicts a modern Adam and Eve directly creating commentary on the males’ perception of the female, the mermaid connotes the call of the sultry siren, or as in the case of the miniature mermaid, it is a subtle reminder of pedophilia, and the pewter miniature camel is a reference to nurture and sustenance only attainable from a mother and her precious life sustaining milk.
Painter Gustav Klimt is known for stating his belief that "All art is erotic," (Moffat 1). Klimt would appreciate the interiors of "My Tara," as these objects offer a variety of sexual inferences. The dynamic messages within the rooms are inspired by the artist Tracy Emin, whose installations and photographic imageries shared openly intimate details about her sex life and boudoir behavior. By exhibiting herself in compromising positions, Emin bore messages that differed for every viewer. Emin stated that “being an artist…it’s some kind of communication, a message” (Grosenick 72). The many onlookers saw her as courageous, controversial, feminist, and also promiscuous, powerful, rebellious, shameless, and raw.
The ground floor of "My Tara" has three rooms (03A -03B). The left room displays a recreation of the interior of a gentleman's entertainment club. The objects situated in a clubroom are indicative of a dancer's pole, a lap dance chair, and a shoddily-constructed dance stage. Images of city buildings, a paper strip of airplane images, and the figure of a businessman on the walls, and identification cards on the ceiling represent aspects of human trafficking and the sex slavery industry. The doorway leading to the next room is blocked off. The middle room is presented as a foyer and filled with a Barbie doll with flowing hair bent over on the staircase. The right side of the foyer is full of plastic male toy figurines. The room on the right side is fashioned after a Victorian parlor. Set against the left wall is a full, miniature wooden Cabinet of Curiosities, and the wrinkled magazine image on the opposite wall shows a similar contemporary collection.
On the second story level, there are also three rooms. The left room denotes masculinity, with icons such as a stallion pendant, a cowboy boot with a spur jewelry trinket, a brightly painted wooden cock, screws, and an aluminum beer can. These are suggestive of how males pursue females in the twenty-first century, and thus communication imagery, like a miniature metal telephone and an open address book, is shown. A box with gold letters printed with the words “Past Times,” and plastic pregnancy tests in the right back corner create metaphors about victories and challenges in the relations between men and women. A black film sunglass visor above the brown corner box suggests that someone is looking and supports the theory that most men are prevalently more visually oriented. There is a miniature laptop with the image of a female to reference pornography.
The center room is a visual commentary on the old nursery rhyme about the ingredients that make up boys and girls. A white cake in the far left corner topped with a pink glittery miniature apple is a subtle reference to the nursery rhyme line that "[G]irls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice." Leading to the blue room to the right are three female Egyptian busts, referencing recent discoveries showing that ancient Egyptians had copious amounts of erotic material within their hieroglyphics etched in stone. These are timeless issues.
On the second story level, the room to the right is a Carolina blue and contains a miniature rocker, a bench piled with various natural things, and male human hair covering the left wall. There is also a dental bone from a raccoon settled in a bird's nest with a miniature pair of round lens referencing Benjamin Franklin glasses, suggesting the profile of an old man. The silhouette faces the window on the right wall with patches of fox fur attached above and below the window sills. The ceiling hosts hermetic blue and white latex gloves hanging down. The room is illuminated with two small round white lights covered by broken glasses: one clear and the other a translucent cobalt blue. The glasses turned upside down act as domes and give an ominous blue light that suggests the bluesy vulnus (Figure 03C).
The attic aims to spread awareness of the booming business of human trafficking and the residual of those encountering the experiences. Worldwide trafficking seems to be an epidemic, growing daily with stories of young children snatched or sold by their families into indentured lives in the service of slavery and inhuman sexual submission. To call attention to these facts and those affected, such as those from the Indonesian and Thai cultures, where the practice is prevalent, I incorporated brightly colored patterns and objects to represent those cultures’ vivid ornamentation. The left half of the attic holds a collection of empty Tiger Balm containers made of glass. The Indian salve used for pain, and the brightly packaged stacked bottles represent the incalculable suffering likely endured by victims of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse in the underground business. A staircase leading from the ground floor to the second, and another leading to the attic, are purposely covered, suggesting the apparent blockage of free passage of people caught in confined situations.
"My Tara" rests on a four-legged wooden table painted a pale gray. Each table leg rests on a combination of three decorative square glass bricks placed in a raised triangular form. The bricks and table support the house at eye level. Directly underneath the Tara plantation house, in the proximity of the table legs, are soil piles containing plant roots that ascend and attach to the bottom of the home. The soil and roots symbolize the cycles of my vulnerability and brush with danger and the perseverance to overcome the emotional vulnus.
The Shack
"The Shack" is the title of a book by William Paul Young, which I read some years ago. The story is an account of a four-year-old girl's abduction, rape, and brutal murder, all taking place within a shack in the mountains. My piece "The Shack" "connects my vulnus associated to the sad story and images conjured during the read. This assemblage invites viewers to approach and look more closely into its interior through the open front doorway to see the paraphernalia and props. The visual offering within is a scattered assemblage of lost or tossed articles once belonging to babies and toddlers, such as socks, shoes, sunglasses, teething rings, slippers, and shells. The objects were collected in Charlotte, Charleston, Florence, Paris, and Eufaula, Alabama from 2013 up to the present year 2015. The pieces represent traces of life and people, hints or glimpses of a moment in the day of a young life (Figures 04 – 04C).
Frances Lee Glessner, now known for revolutionizing the way a crime scene is investigated in forensics, influenced "The Shack." Ms. Glessner utilized the art of diorama to help train investigators on the act of observation in the late 1930s through 1950s. A wealth of invaluable information can be gleaned with a keen eye, and the use of dioramas became useful to policemen, who took their lessons into the field and helped solve cases of homicide more efficiently. "The Shack"of Vulnus is a well-constructed wooden diorama resembling a cabin-like structure.
The Shack is painted a dark baby blue on the shingled exterior, with a red door, and accentuated with a primary yellow border at the bottom surface and corners. There are two medium-sized windows on each side, and the back is closed off entirely. The roof shingled black has been adorned with a small antler set, human hair, and a found toddler's multicolored summer sandal. This interior is a large single room dwelling, measuring 27 ½ inches by 18 ½ inches. The assemblage piece is shown elevated to a high viewing level by eight concrete cinder bricks, four stacked high on each side of the underside of the building. The use of such cinder blocks results from their often being seen as the bases for mobile homes and shack-like structures. A dog lead juts from the structure onto the floor with an attached white sundress lying flat on the floor, indicating the submissiveness of a female (Figure 04A-04B).
Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl?
Child abduction is specifically addressed in the assemblage of "Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl?." The piece is about my experience as a child, alone, being asked that very question, "Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl?" by two teenage males in a red muscle car. It might have been a joke to them, but it terrified me, making a deep impression about personal safety at such a tender age. Numerous stories are regularly broadcast on the news of children being abducted while waiting at the bus stop or checking their mailboxes (Figure 05 – 05B).
"Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl" is also an assemblage. The piece combines a former doll house creation titled "The Darkened House On The Hill," which has been dismantled and set into a second doll house with an unfinished exterior. The assemblage is filled with broken fragments of mirrors and rocks from Spruce Pines, North Carolina, where a boy went missing. There are also nails collected from the site of a house fire a few miles away. This piece explores the fear(s) some children face in vulnerable circumstances in their tender childhoods. The assemblage almost tugs at one's heart, as there is one sad female beanie baby toy sitting in a corner, seemingly abandoned. The piece is displayed on a pedestal of three layers of stacked red clay bricks taken from a home in Charlotte. The bricks are suggestive of the importance for children of feeling safe and secure in their environments.
Conclusion
Vulnus remains a cathartic work, which follows a serene process of gluing in a precise manner, holding patiently, and praying as the adhesives set and the objects are secured for display. Thankfully, I was given the educational opportunity to engage once again in creating artwork, and enabled to share what is most important to me. The past is now a closed chapter. Now healed, I look forward to my life: creating more "heart-art" and engaging with outreach organizations that support the lives affected by abduction and human trafficking. One such organization is Lily Pad Haven in Charlotte, one place where I hope to volunteer time and encourage individuals that have been part of the human trafficking epidemic. I plan to continue creating artworks. Participating in events such as Pecha Kucha Night in Charlotte, presenting artwork, and publicly sharing, I aim to raise audience awareness and hopefully help thwart dangerous, vulnerable possibilities.
Figure 01 - Thesis Work Illustrations
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 01 - Thesis Work Illustrations
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 01A - Thesis Work Illustrations
Front Detail –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 01B - Thesis Work Illustrations
Back Detail –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 02 - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail of the Female Half –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects.
2012.
Figure 02A - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail of the Male Half –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects.
2012.
Figure 03 - Thesis Work Illustrations
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Glass bricks, Table.
2015.
Figure 03A - Thesis Work Illustration
Work in progress -
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Dollhouse.
2014 - 2015.
Figure 03B - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail of interior -
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects.
2014 - 2015.
Figure 03C - Thesis Work Illustrations
Digital image of Blue Room -
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Dollhouse.
2014 - 2015.
Figure 04 - Thesis Work Illustrations
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks, Dog lead.
2014.
Figure 04A - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks.
2014.
Figure 04B - Thesis Work Illustrations
Interior Detail-
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks.
2014.
Figure 04C - Thesis Work Illustrations
Interior Detail-
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks.
2014.
Figure 05 - Thesis Work Illustrations
Work In Progress –
Wanna’ Go For a Ride Little Girl?
Assemblage.
Beanie Baby, Dollhouses, Found Natural Objects.
2015.
Figure A - Illustrations of Other Artists Work
Louise Nevelson, Dawn’s Wedding Chapel, Found objects, wood, Whitney Museum of American Art, 1959.
Figure B -
Doris Salcedo, 1550 Chairs Stacked Between Two City Buildings, Installation of Accumulation, Istanbul Biennial, 2003.
Artist Figure C - Illustrations of Other Artists Work
Frida Kahlo, Roots, Painting, 1943.
Artist Figure D –
Diana Al-Hadid, Record of a Mortal Universe, 2007; mixed media, 2007.
Artist Figure E - Illustrations of Other Artists Work
Mariam Schapiro, Womanhouse, Assemblage, 1973.
Bibliography
Dial, Thornton. Hard Truths//The Art of Thornton Dial. Indianapolis: Indianapolis Museum of Art and Del Monaco Books, 2011. Print.
Dial, Thornton. Thornton Dial Thoughts On Paper. Chapel Hill, North Carolina: University of North Carolina Press, 2011. Print.
Grosenick, Uta. Women Artists. Cologne: Taschen, 2005. Print.
Gulledge, Delores. A Mourning Miracle. Charleston, South Carolina: Arts as Medicine, llc. Through Create Space Independent Publisher, 2013. Print.
Hills, Patricia. Modern Art in the USA Issues and Controversies of the 2oth Century. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, Inc., 2001. Print. Chapter Six 1968-1980, #102 Lucy R. Lippard, “Eva Hesse: The Circle” in From the Center: Feminist Essays on Women’s Art (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1976). First published in Art in America 59, no. 3, (may-June 1971):68-73. Print.
Moffat, Charles. Gustav Klimt, The Art History Archive- Symbolism. www.arthistoryarchive.com/arthistory/symbolism/Gustav-Klimt.html. 2008. Web.
whitney.org/image_columns/0001/6193/70.68a_m_nevelson_imageprimacy_compressed_586.jpeg. Nevelson, Louise. Dawn’s Wedding Chapel. 1959. Web.
www.askart.com/askart/k/frida_kahlo/frida_kahlo.aspx. Kahlo, Frida. Roots, 1943. Web.
www.gwarlingo.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Salcedo-Chairs-Front_View.jpeg. Salcedo, Doris. 1550 Chairs Stacked Between Two City Buildings. 2003. Web.
dailyserving.com/wp-content/uploads/art/Diana-Al-Hadid-11-19-07%20.jpg. Al-Hadid, Diana. Record of a Mortal Universe. 2007. Web.
40.media.tumblr.com/86a83551bc1eccf193030a3d418dd7b4/tumblr_mzgyt4Aq9Z1qghk7bo1_1280.jpg. Schapiro, Mariam. Womanhouse. 1973. Web.
Introduction
Vulnus is a body of work comprised principally of found objects. Artist Thornton Dial believed “everything in the world is art” (105). He stated that in his life experience, “You walk through life, every step you make you pick up something. You pick a whole bunch of stuff” (103). I do the same. With found objects and materials, I make constructions that express the almost burdensome concern for peoples’ lives and safety I have felt since I was a young child.
Thus, assemblage art is the primary medium for my artistic expression.
I consistently create theatrical compositions through collection and juxtaposition of contrasting objects, such as a bone and a damaged unicorn, or an identification card alongside stamps of wolves. Vulnus, the Latin word meaning a wound or an injury, is appropriate for this body of work, which consists of a trinity of doll houses transformed by hundreds of pieces of found objects that fill their interiors; these personally symbolic multi-media assemblages represent memories of vulnerability, danger, and trauma. The three main assemblages, entitled “Wanna’ Go for a Ride Little Girl?”, “The Shack,” and “My Tara,” respectively form the body of the Vulnus installation.
Initially, I thought that artists should only make art for themselves. I did not believe in any responsibility of an artist to the public. However, in time I arrived at the epiphany that yes, an artist does have an individual civic duty to serve the people through art. Artworks from Ancient through Contemporary Art movements were, and continue to be, influential and inspirational
to people and communities to this day. Every artist has a different agenda and belief associated with their artwork. My sense of duty is to elicit care and support of my global brethren through my artwork; that is the obligation to humanity that I hold myself to. Through my assemblages, it is my intention to offer the viewer’s visual connections to painful or taboo issues, emotions, or experiences that welcome interaction and discussion.
As a sensitive person, I could never become accustomed to seeing others being hurt or wounded emotionally, mentally, physically, or even socially. Habituate and the variation, habituation, became the catalyst words during the formation of Vulnus. The definition of the verb indicates that someone has adjusted or familiarized themselves with an event or place. At times, people are snared into dangerous situations and some of those people then experience the Stockholm syndrome, which is an extreme form of habituation.
While in the process of assembling, it appears to me to be appropriate to hope that there will be less emotional and physical wounding, since “[O]ne’s conception of one’s identity is largely based on one’s past experiences, present situation, and future goals,” (Gulledge 92). Thus, as
I work, I think of people that have experienced, are experiencing, or may come to experience abduction, abuse, and trauma.
Impressions
Thinking of personal vulnus relates to my three distinct memories of vulnerability and danger. First, at age four, being asked if I wanted to take a ride with two male strangers in their vehicle and experiencing the onset of extreme fear. Second, being subjected to sexual abuse. Third, living through a dangerous two and a half month period of enforced isolation. Experiencing events so terrifying creates deep emotional wounds. After trauma, one can stagnate, overwhelmed by residual vulnus. But there is victory if one can aim for courageous growth and resiliency through perseverance after a harrowing incident. This is true both on a personal and community basis. For example, in a recent global event, Boko Haram militants kidnapped over three hundred girls from their boarding school in the Chibok village of Nigeria. This story still continues to unfold. The phrase “Bring Our Girls Back” has gone viral worldwide, and hopeful prayers continue for the girls, their families, and their community. In the case of this and other news stories, communities have come together after a horrendous happening or dramatic event. Global events tend to leave indelible marks on individuals, cultures, and societies. Individuals and communities may experience the fragility inherent in nature and life. Yet after a traumatic exposure, a more sensitive perspective may be attained, and habituation evaded, through the creation and appreciation of art.
One traumatic social phenomenon that I am concerned about is the ever-growing industry of human trafficking. Statistically, over 2,300 people go missing daily in the United States. Charlotte, North Carolina, where I reside, happens to be one of the top ten cities known for trafficking in the United States. This fact seems to go under the radar, and I fear people have a false sense of safety. Young females are estimated to be the most abducted and coerced into brothels and sex slavery. Quite often, runaways are "rescued" by predators or pimps within the first few days of having left their homes or former lives. Kidnapped or lured away, children, teenagers, and adults find themselves confined and constrained, and then submit to living in complete oppression and sequestration.
Intentions
Through the repetitive application of advertisements for "Missing Persons" within Vulnus and other creations, my intention has been to raise awareness about such issues. I want to address abduction(s), abuse(s) associated with kidnapping(s), and the reality of widespread human trafficking. The motivation for using “Missing Persons” advertisements comes from a true story told to me by a dear friend, Martha Logan. This story involves her daughter Kelly, now twenty-six, who helped to rescue a “Missing” little girl. The little girl was a classmate of Kelly’s in kindergarten. One day Kelly was surprised to see the picture of her friend on the back of a milk container, and told her Mommy immediately. The fortunate little girl was reunited with her family shortly after Martha alerted the appropriate authorities. The little girl had been abducted by a friend of the family and relocated to California. This true story had a happy ending as the little girl resumed life with her real family.
Influences
Occurring around the same time as the Logan Family incident, my Father, a shoe salesman, relocated to Los Angeles to pursue a career in acting/modeling. Tools for his profession included fashion, makeup, and props which had an effect on me. I learned about promoting one’s self,
as he frequently mailed newly updated composite cards to me growing up. My mother (an artist and interior decorator) exposed me to arrangement and composition, fabricating her smaller scale versions of "Louise Nevelson" wooden assemblages (Figure A). She encouraged playful exploration of clothing, décor, jewelry, and shoes. A profound and lasting memory I have is of the freedom given in my formative years to explore this world of ornament. It is not surprising, then, that the sight of certain adornments, clothing, furniture, objects, shoes, and even toys trigger associations with distinct memories.
Additionally, through exploration as a toddler while accompanying my mother to choose furniture for her clients, I was inadvertently led to a love of vignettes and arrangements of furniture in antique warehouses. I would go on adventures attempting to open every drawer in every dresser, searching for leftover contents in the furniture. I learned the rewards of looking for goodies and treasures left in drawers or behind curiosity cabinet doors. In particular, exposure to Victorian accessories, clothing, items, and furniture remaining from that culture led to a fascination with the Victorian Era.
The Victorians had an engaging pastime as they presented small to large collections of things, usually in cabinets and display boxes, under glass. Collectors, educators, medical professionals, scientists, and world travelers would house wondrous displays of various ancient relics, animals, bones, insects, flora and fauna, scientific samples, and other oddities in such cabinets. Cabinets of Curiosity had actually originated in Europe during the Early Renaissance times. Sixteenth-century scholars and very wealthy collectors utilized whole rooms to create Memory Theaters, where one could examine the nature and various elements of the world. This habit was continued and expanded upon in Victorian culture.
Inspired by an adoration for the Renaissance and Victorian eras, "The Infinite Look of He and She," an assemblage fabricated for Professor Shaun Cassidy's class, is a direct homage to the Cabinet of Curiosity. "The Infinite Look of He and She" resembles an open fortress, which is displayed on a faded, black, early twentieth-century sailing trunk. The chest is erected on its side three-quarters of the way open so one may see the floral blue paper lining the interior. It is centered so as to offer the viewer the possibility to walk around it for a full view of the front and back. Anyone can approach and observe "The Infinite Look of He and She." Upon closer inspection the variety of attachments applied tranform the skeletal architectural structure into the now curious fortress: insects, jewelry, feathers, and fragments of ceramics, rocks, shells, and special memorabilia (Figure 01-01B).
"The Infinite Look of He and She" is an open version of a Memory Theater. The fortress contains six filled interior rooms on each side. Applying the objects evoked in me a sense of nostalgia, and the empty hull has been transformed into a rich tapestry of bits and pieces to metaphorically represent thoughts of my home. This piece invites the viewer to question the differences between men and women and the many expectations and roles associated with them. The left half of the open fortress represents the female existence while the right half represents the male way of life.
This merits a comment about one of the artists that influenced me: Mariam Schapiro. In the 1970s, she communicated her views on the issues associated with the expectation(s) and the roles of women. In observing and reading about Schapiro’s perspective, her support of women impresses me today. I associate her socially active part as a female artist with my experienced realities, which were calling subconsciously to unearth themselves for a theatrically dramatic display within the creations for Vulnus. I had long forgotten having studied Shapiro’s work in an art history course, yet unconsciously her work had helped inform my creative vision. Schapiro worked creatively with Judy Chicago in California in the early 1970s. They teamed up together as Feminists creating exhibitions and performance art in support of their surrounding community of women.
"The Infinite Look of He and She" also echoes the boxed artworks of Joseph Cornell, formerly a collector who created his contemporary versions of surreal box theaters. In his collages of unique objects, Cornell inserted trinkets and treasures into boxes and then gifted these dreamlike artworks to friends. Looking at Cornell’s work, one wonders about his artistic influences and preferences. Surrealist artist Salvador Dali questioned logic through his bizarre juxtaposition of contents. Dada artist Man Ray also possibly swayed and enthused Cornell with his bizarre use of objects.
One other artist who influenced me is contemporary Columbian artist Doris Salcedo. Through collections of personal belongings and furnishings, she exposed truthful stories of her country’s political prisoners. Dividing furniture and reassembling it with human hair delicately sewn to reconnect the pieces, the artist created art that spoke of people’s suffering, even martyrdom. Salcedo's displays of furniture owned by political prisoners were seen as residual evidence of life before imprisonment. Numerous fellow countrymen became "Missing People," hauled off, never to be seen or heard from again. Salcedo effectively called attention to the ominous events, and to her firsthand experience of the vulnus of living in such politically violent times.
An inspirational installation of Doris Salcedo, featured at the Turkish Art Festival in the 2003 Istanbul Biennial, utilized chairs. Entitled 1550 Chairs Stacked Between Two City Buildings, it was an exhibition of over fifteen hundred chairs piled several stories high, suggesting the struggle of her homeland and countrymen caught in the then precarious global economy (Figure B). Researching Salcedo's work led me to the realization of the possibilities for expression through objects. Some objects can convey many messages or metaphors for viewers. I developed a personal symbolic vocabulary shaped by means of bed posts, bones, bricks, children's shoes and paraphernalia, dog leads, doll houses, dresses, hair, and a plethora of natural elements. Individual objects can convey such different meanings viewer to viewer. For instance, bones and bricks could represent either stability or instability, depending on one’s perspective.
Another influence on my work is the Mexican artist Frieda Kahlo. In her lifetime, there was emotional vulnus after her trauma(s), including her accident and subsequent chronic pain, and an unsuccessful delivery of her only child. The heartaches expressed symbolically in her paintings have long been understood by many of her viewers. One can clearly see her emblematic signs of agony in, for example, A Few Small Nips Passionately in Love, My Nurse and I, or Roots, (Figure C). A visual vocabulary of includes symbolic in images such as the use of human anatomy, figures, hair, nature, furniture, costumes, and dresses.
Similarly, Syrian assemblage artist and sculptor Diana Al-Hadid creates a timeless fragility through the use of architecture, archeology, and object-based imagery. Al-Hadid exhibits the installations in a way to make them appear in various states of decay. Through the exploration of recycled materials, Al-Hadid creates architectural settings suggestive of both ancient and future dwellings. Viewing Al-Hadid’s artworks is similar to seeing folds within a velvet draping or the ascension of an ornate and winding stairway, or intricate lace cut out of a Victorian Valentine card ((Figure D). I understand the relevance of my response to Al-Hadid’s works, which lies mostly in the absence of living beings. Her works seem abandoned and devoid of life, as if they are the remaining ruins of a once thriving civilization now gone.
My Tara
Within Vulnus, "My Tara" is an assemblage set within a wooden doll house that I originally discovered at an antique mall in Mooresville, North Carolina. The two story dwelling has six rooms, an attic, and a gabled roof line with a pediment on the house front that bears resemblance to that of an old Southern Antebellum home. The yellowed wooden exterior has detailed faux plastic windows on each side, and five evenly placed windows for each room. Some might agree it is even reminiscent to that of the "Tara" plantation seen in the classic movie "Gone with the Wind." My natural response was to rush and purchase this miniature version of this famously iconic home. Thus began the official initial planning for the thesis Vulnus. The artistic vision for my thesis work had arrived, and the mission developed (Figures 03 – 03C).
Going back to Schapiro and her focus on male and female roles, "My Tara" is a present-day version of Schapiro’s assemblage generally known as The Feminist Dollhouse, but actually titled Womanhouse. The assemblage "My Tara" is similar to her Womanhouse in content and medium, but is visually more aggressive (Figure E).
The exterior of "My Tara" is liberally tiled with “Missing People” advertisements on both the front and sides of the home. I try to call attention to the number of people reported missing. Prevalently among those who go missing are teenagers, and most commonly they are female. Many runaways and random people experience abduction(s), abuse(s), and being forced into human trafficking and sex slavery. The doll house while whimsically adorned, represents the illusion that many runaways fall under as they think that changing their residence will provide their empty or dramatic home lives a new sense of ease, fulfillment, and satisfaction.
The front of My Tara has a porch with four plain columns sparingly speckled with mold. There are French doors that incompletely painted in a decorative manner, which makes the house look abandoned, as if life had been interrupted. A miniature red metal bicycle of an imagined character is propped on the porch, abandoned by its owner. Interruption invokes the lives of those abducted, who have left behind their unfinished lives. As predators and pedophiles are known to employ a variety of tricks, games, toys, and even sweets to lure their young prey, the front porch is decorated with an offering of candy.
The roof line of “My Tara” has a glittery miniature house stacked in front of a deer antler that encompasses a turtle shell containing a delicate miniature mermaid vignette. On the opposite side, there is a black and brown striped fur pelt opposite a plastic French feminist cartoon ashtray and an abstract painting of a crane on the roof. At the back of the roof line is plastic fantasy female toy peering at any approaching viewer. The use of animal antlers, fur, and turtle shell is an indirect inference to the hunting of man for prey, with the aim of pleasure or reproduction. Additionally, animals and humans have experienced forms of habituation in captivity, acclimating to perilous situations as a mechanism for survival. Various perceptions of the diverse roles of women are represented by objects; the Feminist ashtray depicts a modern Adam and Eve directly creating commentary on the males’ perception of the female, the mermaid connotes the call of the sultry siren, or as in the case of the miniature mermaid, it is a subtle reminder of pedophilia, and the pewter miniature camel is a reference to nurture and sustenance only attainable from a mother and her precious life sustaining milk.
Painter Gustav Klimt is known for stating his belief that "All art is erotic," (Moffat 1). Klimt would appreciate the interiors of "My Tara," as these objects offer a variety of sexual inferences. The dynamic messages within the rooms are inspired by the artist Tracy Emin, whose installations and photographic imageries shared openly intimate details about her sex life and boudoir behavior. By exhibiting herself in compromising positions, Emin bore messages that differed for every viewer. Emin stated that “being an artist…it’s some kind of communication, a message” (Grosenick 72). The many onlookers saw her as courageous, controversial, feminist, and also promiscuous, powerful, rebellious, shameless, and raw.
The ground floor of "My Tara" has three rooms (03A -03B). The left room displays a recreation of the interior of a gentleman's entertainment club. The objects situated in a clubroom are indicative of a dancer's pole, a lap dance chair, and a shoddily-constructed dance stage. Images of city buildings, a paper strip of airplane images, and the figure of a businessman on the walls, and identification cards on the ceiling represent aspects of human trafficking and the sex slavery industry. The doorway leading to the next room is blocked off. The middle room is presented as a foyer and filled with a Barbie doll with flowing hair bent over on the staircase. The right side of the foyer is full of plastic male toy figurines. The room on the right side is fashioned after a Victorian parlor. Set against the left wall is a full, miniature wooden Cabinet of Curiosities, and the wrinkled magazine image on the opposite wall shows a similar contemporary collection.
On the second story level, there are also three rooms. The left room denotes masculinity, with icons such as a stallion pendant, a cowboy boot with a spur jewelry trinket, a brightly painted wooden cock, screws, and an aluminum beer can. These are suggestive of how males pursue females in the twenty-first century, and thus communication imagery, like a miniature metal telephone and an open address book, is shown. A box with gold letters printed with the words “Past Times,” and plastic pregnancy tests in the right back corner create metaphors about victories and challenges in the relations between men and women. A black film sunglass visor above the brown corner box suggests that someone is looking and supports the theory that most men are prevalently more visually oriented. There is a miniature laptop with the image of a female to reference pornography.
The center room is a visual commentary on the old nursery rhyme about the ingredients that make up boys and girls. A white cake in the far left corner topped with a pink glittery miniature apple is a subtle reference to the nursery rhyme line that "[G]irls are made of sugar and spice and all things nice." Leading to the blue room to the right are three female Egyptian busts, referencing recent discoveries showing that ancient Egyptians had copious amounts of erotic material within their hieroglyphics etched in stone. These are timeless issues.
On the second story level, the room to the right is a Carolina blue and contains a miniature rocker, a bench piled with various natural things, and male human hair covering the left wall. There is also a dental bone from a raccoon settled in a bird's nest with a miniature pair of round lens referencing Benjamin Franklin glasses, suggesting the profile of an old man. The silhouette faces the window on the right wall with patches of fox fur attached above and below the window sills. The ceiling hosts hermetic blue and white latex gloves hanging down. The room is illuminated with two small round white lights covered by broken glasses: one clear and the other a translucent cobalt blue. The glasses turned upside down act as domes and give an ominous blue light that suggests the bluesy vulnus (Figure 03C).
The attic aims to spread awareness of the booming business of human trafficking and the residual of those encountering the experiences. Worldwide trafficking seems to be an epidemic, growing daily with stories of young children snatched or sold by their families into indentured lives in the service of slavery and inhuman sexual submission. To call attention to these facts and those affected, such as those from the Indonesian and Thai cultures, where the practice is prevalent, I incorporated brightly colored patterns and objects to represent those cultures’ vivid ornamentation. The left half of the attic holds a collection of empty Tiger Balm containers made of glass. The Indian salve used for pain, and the brightly packaged stacked bottles represent the incalculable suffering likely endured by victims of emotional, physical, and sexual abuse in the underground business. A staircase leading from the ground floor to the second, and another leading to the attic, are purposely covered, suggesting the apparent blockage of free passage of people caught in confined situations.
"My Tara" rests on a four-legged wooden table painted a pale gray. Each table leg rests on a combination of three decorative square glass bricks placed in a raised triangular form. The bricks and table support the house at eye level. Directly underneath the Tara plantation house, in the proximity of the table legs, are soil piles containing plant roots that ascend and attach to the bottom of the home. The soil and roots symbolize the cycles of my vulnerability and brush with danger and the perseverance to overcome the emotional vulnus.
The Shack
"The Shack" is the title of a book by William Paul Young, which I read some years ago. The story is an account of a four-year-old girl's abduction, rape, and brutal murder, all taking place within a shack in the mountains. My piece "The Shack" "connects my vulnus associated to the sad story and images conjured during the read. This assemblage invites viewers to approach and look more closely into its interior through the open front doorway to see the paraphernalia and props. The visual offering within is a scattered assemblage of lost or tossed articles once belonging to babies and toddlers, such as socks, shoes, sunglasses, teething rings, slippers, and shells. The objects were collected in Charlotte, Charleston, Florence, Paris, and Eufaula, Alabama from 2013 up to the present year 2015. The pieces represent traces of life and people, hints or glimpses of a moment in the day of a young life (Figures 04 – 04C).
Frances Lee Glessner, now known for revolutionizing the way a crime scene is investigated in forensics, influenced "The Shack." Ms. Glessner utilized the art of diorama to help train investigators on the act of observation in the late 1930s through 1950s. A wealth of invaluable information can be gleaned with a keen eye, and the use of dioramas became useful to policemen, who took their lessons into the field and helped solve cases of homicide more efficiently. "The Shack"of Vulnus is a well-constructed wooden diorama resembling a cabin-like structure.
The Shack is painted a dark baby blue on the shingled exterior, with a red door, and accentuated with a primary yellow border at the bottom surface and corners. There are two medium-sized windows on each side, and the back is closed off entirely. The roof shingled black has been adorned with a small antler set, human hair, and a found toddler's multicolored summer sandal. This interior is a large single room dwelling, measuring 27 ½ inches by 18 ½ inches. The assemblage piece is shown elevated to a high viewing level by eight concrete cinder bricks, four stacked high on each side of the underside of the building. The use of such cinder blocks results from their often being seen as the bases for mobile homes and shack-like structures. A dog lead juts from the structure onto the floor with an attached white sundress lying flat on the floor, indicating the submissiveness of a female (Figure 04A-04B).
Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl?
Child abduction is specifically addressed in the assemblage of "Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl?." The piece is about my experience as a child, alone, being asked that very question, "Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl?" by two teenage males in a red muscle car. It might have been a joke to them, but it terrified me, making a deep impression about personal safety at such a tender age. Numerous stories are regularly broadcast on the news of children being abducted while waiting at the bus stop or checking their mailboxes (Figure 05 – 05B).
"Wanna' go for a Ride Little Girl" is also an assemblage. The piece combines a former doll house creation titled "The Darkened House On The Hill," which has been dismantled and set into a second doll house with an unfinished exterior. The assemblage is filled with broken fragments of mirrors and rocks from Spruce Pines, North Carolina, where a boy went missing. There are also nails collected from the site of a house fire a few miles away. This piece explores the fear(s) some children face in vulnerable circumstances in their tender childhoods. The assemblage almost tugs at one's heart, as there is one sad female beanie baby toy sitting in a corner, seemingly abandoned. The piece is displayed on a pedestal of three layers of stacked red clay bricks taken from a home in Charlotte. The bricks are suggestive of the importance for children of feeling safe and secure in their environments.
Conclusion
Vulnus remains a cathartic work, which follows a serene process of gluing in a precise manner, holding patiently, and praying as the adhesives set and the objects are secured for display. Thankfully, I was given the educational opportunity to engage once again in creating artwork, and enabled to share what is most important to me. The past is now a closed chapter. Now healed, I look forward to my life: creating more "heart-art" and engaging with outreach organizations that support the lives affected by abduction and human trafficking. One such organization is Lily Pad Haven in Charlotte, one place where I hope to volunteer time and encourage individuals that have been part of the human trafficking epidemic. I plan to continue creating artworks. Participating in events such as Pecha Kucha Night in Charlotte, presenting artwork, and publicly sharing, I aim to raise audience awareness and hopefully help thwart dangerous, vulnerable possibilities.
Figure 01 - Thesis Work Illustrations
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 01 - Thesis Work Illustrations
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 01A - Thesis Work Illustrations
Front Detail –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 01B - Thesis Work Illustrations
Back Detail –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Shoes, Trunk.
2012.
Figure 02 - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail of the Female Half –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects.
2012.
Figure 02A - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail of the Male Half –
The Infinite Look of He and She.
Assemblage.
Found Objects.
2012.
Figure 03 - Thesis Work Illustrations
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Glass bricks, Table.
2015.
Figure 03A - Thesis Work Illustration
Work in progress -
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Dollhouse.
2014 - 2015.
Figure 03B - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail of interior -
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects.
2014 - 2015.
Figure 03C - Thesis Work Illustrations
Digital image of Blue Room -
My Tara.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Dollhouse.
2014 - 2015.
Figure 04 - Thesis Work Illustrations
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks, Dog lead.
2014.
Figure 04A - Thesis Work Illustrations
Detail
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks.
2014.
Figure 04B - Thesis Work Illustrations
Interior Detail-
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks.
2014.
Figure 04C - Thesis Work Illustrations
Interior Detail-
The Shack.
Assemblage.
Found Objects, Bed posts, Cinder blocks.
2014.
Figure 05 - Thesis Work Illustrations
Work In Progress –
Wanna’ Go For a Ride Little Girl?
Assemblage.
Beanie Baby, Dollhouses, Found Natural Objects.
2015.
Figure A - Illustrations of Other Artists Work
Louise Nevelson, Dawn’s Wedding Chapel, Found objects, wood, Whitney Museum of American Art, 1959.
Figure B -
Doris Salcedo, 1550 Chairs Stacked Between Two City Buildings, Installation of Accumulation, Istanbul Biennial, 2003.
Artist Figure C - Illustrations of Other Artists Work
Frida Kahlo, Roots, Painting, 1943.
Artist Figure D –
Diana Al-Hadid, Record of a Mortal Universe, 2007; mixed media, 2007.
Artist Figure E - Illustrations of Other Artists Work
Mariam Schapiro, Womanhouse, Assemblage, 1973.
Bibliography
Dial, Thornton. Hard Truths//The Art of Thornton Dial. Indianapolis: Indianapolis Museum of Art and Del Monaco Books, 2011. Print.
Dial, Thornton. Thornton Dial Thoughts On Paper. Chapel Hill, North Carolina: University of North Carolina Press, 2011. Print.
Grosenick, Uta. Women Artists. Cologne: Taschen, 2005. Print.
Gulledge, Delores. A Mourning Miracle. Charleston, South Carolina: Arts as Medicine, llc. Through Create Space Independent Publisher, 2013. Print.
Hills, Patricia. Modern Art in the USA Issues and Controversies of the 2oth Century. New Jersey: Prentice Hall, Inc., 2001. Print. Chapter Six 1968-1980, #102 Lucy R. Lippard, “Eva Hesse: The Circle” in From the Center: Feminist Essays on Women’s Art (New York: E. P. Dutton, 1976). First published in Art in America 59, no. 3, (may-June 1971):68-73. Print.
Moffat, Charles. Gustav Klimt, The Art History Archive- Symbolism. www.arthistoryarchive.com/arthistory/symbolism/Gustav-Klimt.html. 2008. Web.
whitney.org/image_columns/0001/6193/70.68a_m_nevelson_imageprimacy_compressed_586.jpeg. Nevelson, Louise. Dawn’s Wedding Chapel. 1959. Web.
www.askart.com/askart/k/frida_kahlo/frida_kahlo.aspx. Kahlo, Frida. Roots, 1943. Web.
www.gwarlingo.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/Salcedo-Chairs-Front_View.jpeg. Salcedo, Doris. 1550 Chairs Stacked Between Two City Buildings. 2003. Web.
dailyserving.com/wp-content/uploads/art/Diana-Al-Hadid-11-19-07%20.jpg. Al-Hadid, Diana. Record of a Mortal Universe. 2007. Web.
40.media.tumblr.com/86a83551bc1eccf193030a3d418dd7b4/tumblr_mzgyt4Aq9Z1qghk7bo1_1280.jpg. Schapiro, Mariam. Womanhouse. 1973. Web.
