I molded the surface of my Ikea table before scraping it away and cast it in resin. When it sits on top of the table, you can see the scraping through the “wood” veneer.
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Resin Wood Surface
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Vibrant Matter by Jane Bennett
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Queer Phenomenology by Sara Ahmed
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Finished Table Scraping
I’m interested in the element of time spent together. The table which has been fully scraped reflects a relationship between myself and the object. Sometimes I would approach it with excitement, sometimes with fatigue. Sometimes I would be working quickly, sometimes slow. And how would the table change. Perhaps some days there was more moisture in the air, some days less. As more of its underbelly was revealed, perhaps its chemical constitution began to change, however minutely. And the markings on the table are what remains of this exchange, a union of sorts.
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Scraping Faux Leather
I was initially attracted to the faux leather because of the juxtaposition of skin and PVC. I’m interested in the idea of micro plastics leaching into bodies. To make body surfaces out of plastic seemed to be in some ways an extreme way of exemplifying that. I had the initial idea to cover something in the fabric, perhaps a body part. I was thinking a lot of Janine Antoni’s Saddle. I decided instead to carve into it. I began carving, but it wasn’t turning out as I’d hoped. It was then that I realized that I needed to “skin” it. In peeling off the PVC and trying to return the fabric to what it really is (cotton) I couldn’t help but destroy it, physicalizing the interconnectedness of synthetics within our structures and bodies. This to me feels like the first moment of contact between myself and the material. As I work with it, further questions and concerns will undoubtedly emerge.
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Grating PVC Board
I really love the wood grain of this PVC wood. It feels very silly to me, and yet there is something strangely comforting about being allowed to reference it as wood through its surface. I’ve been doing a lot of research on plastics and thinking about how plastics can’t biodegrade but instead can only photodegrade. There is a Donna Haraway quote about the cyborg not dreaming of returning to dust and this made me think of the micro plastics that will continuously float about, getting smaller and smaller but never changing molecular form. I wanted to physicalize the breakdown of this PVC in relation to its wood surface. The only way for it to become dust is for me to intervene and make it so. This also feels like the first step in a longer engagement with the materials.
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Tying up Foam
I bought this foam at the beginning of the semester, thinking that I would carve it, and it’s been sitting in my studio ever since in its plastic bag. There are certain actions that the foam seems to be calling for. Squishing, marking, tearing. I decided to leave the foam in its bag and to tie it with fishing line. But in tying, the fishing line began to dig in and go through. I wanted to join the cut in the middle, but it was impossible with the same string of fishing line, so I continued down. It’s hanging on by an inch or so.
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Table Surface Scraping
I had a moment at the beginning of the semester when I became obsessed with Ikea furniture. I loved that it feigned at design (they include the name of the designer on the box) but has also become so ubiquitous most homes have something from it. There’s also a bit of a cavalier-ness that I’ve noticed in how we treat Ikea furniture. It’s easy to throw out/give away/abandon. I started accumulating cheap Ikea furniture from Craigslist, including this table. I made a mold of the table, and had the idea of casting it in something. Maybe resin? It was not very thought out. And then, I decided to scrape it. I still have my mold, and so can replace the table’s veneer, but for now I wanted to dig beneath its surface.
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Marble Wallpaper
I love marble wallpaper! I think it’s so absurd. A flat, papery thing to make other things look heavy. I crumpled and tore this one up. I stacked them and that did not work. So far, they seem pretty good when they’re lying about.
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October 10, 2020
The snakes on my foot.
Gurgling.
Gurgling.
I’m self-conscious. As if I am being stared at. It would be easier if this could be taken down like a voice with a recorder.
Once I told an ex-boyfriend that I wished we could read each other’s minds so that I could share everything of myself, and we could communicate even when we weren’t speaking.
Be careful what you wish for.
Even when I’m with you there is so much that I can’t/won’t
Snakes on my foot.
share.
Holes in my knees.
Snakes on my foot.
Cold feet.
Gurgling.
Blue grey blue yellow.
Cold feet.
I’m looking around for something to think. So absurd. Searching for a thought. Really putting on a show.
Cold feet.
There are no thoughts out there.
Awww that sounds delight
Ful, yay to a happy home with loved
Shards of railroad
Hmmmmm
Sounds good.
Cold feet.
A hide to hang yourself in or cow yourself
Like a rock with holes pushed through.
The girl with an arched back
And loooonnnggg arms
I want to be her.
Is this unfair to you? I can see you. Out there which is now here. Reading this. You’re being so patient. You’re trying your best to understand or to give me
the benefit of the doubt
I think
I am also trying
I want to connect with you
But there’s a lot in the way
The gurgling.
The cold feet.
I’m picturing us on a mountain together. You’re climbing ahead of me. It’s quite steep and rocky. I’m watching my feet so that I don’t miss a step and sprain my ankle.
You’re confident. You can sense the right rock to step on, almost without looking. There’s a river flowing beside us. It’s how we know we’re on the right path.
But
How do I say this?
We are climbing and suddenly the sound of the river stops. I hadn’t really noticed it was there but now that it’s gone it feels deeply wrong, like someone has turned down the volume on the world, or my ears.
You don’t seem to notice. You walk so fast and all I can see is your back. So, I have to keep going, even though I feel as though a giant head is about to peer out of the clouds and start laughing at me.
I’m not afraid. I’m just confused. But the other senses take over. The pain in my calves and the smell of the weeds (?) and your back up ahead. And so, I keep following you.
Did you like that story? I’m happy to share it with you.
It’s easy to talk to you. The trains of thought are clear. But there is a self-consciousness within that. Maybe it says something about me (that you can see, and I can’t), or just by putting my attention to it
I’ve ruined it.
Are you drinking something? If you can, go get something to drink. Take a minute.
Now look up at the light. Wherever it is coming from. You come to my mind under fluorescent
lights. But that could be wrong.
There’s something about guessing. If it’s correct, it feels like we are one.
But if it’s wrong it destroys everything.
I’ll take a chance.
Gears.
Light in the window.
Wood in the fluorescent lights.
It’s hard to tell the difference between wind and rain when you’re not looking. There is an anticipation for bad weather that doesn’t come. And until it does, it’s impossible to settle in. The body is always running or walking.
(I’m wary of self-indulgence)
Know that I am aware that you are fixed here.
Lights buzzing.
I can be there in 20 inches.
The curved back the arched back.
Monitoring my thoughts like airport security. Many aren’t interesting enough to let through.
It is very delicate and filled with doubt. It is slipping, slipping
with not very much to hold onto.
The couple are walking in the middle of the road with their baby carriage, which is strange. Are they afraid of something?
Embracing you feels like (?)
Sometimes when we are together, I want to leave so that I can see you again.
I want to rush forward into the next encounter, to collapse it all into a blur of colour.
I miss you most when we are together.
This talking seems to be drawing attention to myself.
God that house is creepy.
So, I draw a line through it, to make it clean, a clean break.
I don’t think I can do this anymore.
I am too focused on myself doing it. It’s lost that magic feeling and I am referring to myself too much. I am turning into an allusion instead of a person.
But It’s hard to say goodbye to such a dear friend. What will I do without you?
So, I’ll just say it. Goodbye.
I’ll be thinking of you.