When I began this piece I shot and printed it quickly, passionately. Only with time did the ideas mature, did the message become clear enough for me to tell others.
OK: A piece about memory recall. Big deal. But what Memory--what kind of Memory, specifically? What do photographs of pieces of steel, ice and stone and sounds of birds and machines have to do with remembering anything?
A recollection I experienced one morning long ago catapulted a sea of emotions to an artwork. Thinking about fleeting events in my life, I longed to find a string to hold them together. Images danced around in my head while ambient sounds enveloped the room. As ideas solidified into something that could be described, I felt a description was insufficient. I had to share this experience; get others to reconnect with themselves the way I did.
I thought that an immersive environment with large images and subtle sounds weaving through them would touch on something distant, remote. I put together what I imagined would lead others to make internal connections to something else until their thoughts would capitulate them to the present day. Maybe, like me, others could move forward while standing still. With time slipping by as if nothing happened, perhaps memory could be referenced and compared to the present day.
With a sense of urgency, I decided to recreate the experience. I made photographic images of a sensation. I collected the sounds similar to what I heard outside my window and inside my head. I came up with an arrangement that would be confrontational yet allow passage through it. And I decided it had to accessible only when someone would be there to experience it.
That's Steel Ice & Stone. The installation is made up of nine oversized photographs, sound compositions of birdcalls and heavy machinery and a playback unit to deliver the sound. All three components contribute equally in the realization of the installation, but each piece is individually considered to stand alone.
Inviting others to view this work is a joyful, humbling exercise. Asking them to abandon themselves in this work is far deeper, visceral. Trust is requested; trust to use the installation's vocabulary to connect, like I did, the past with the present in the moment of its experience; something sacred to the heart.
A recollection I experienced one morning long ago catapulted a sea of emotions to an artwork. Thinking about fleeting events in my life, I longed to find a string to hold them together. Images danced around in my head while ambient sounds enveloped the room. As ideas solidified into something that could be described, I felt a description was insufficient. I had to share this experience; get others to reconnect with themselves the way I did.
I thought that an immersive environment with large images and subtle sounds weaving through them would touch on something distant, remote. I put together what I imagined would lead others to make internal connections to something else until their thoughts would capitulate them to the present day. Maybe, like me, others could move forward while standing still. With time slipping by as if nothing happened, perhaps memory could be referenced and compared to the present day.
With a sense of urgency, I decided to recreate the experience. I made photographic images of a sensation. I collected the sounds similar to what I heard outside my window and inside my head. I came up with an arrangement that would be confrontational yet allow passage through it. And I decided it had to accessible only when someone would be there to experience it.
That's Steel Ice & Stone. The installation is made up of nine oversized photographs, sound compositions of birdcalls and heavy machinery and a playback unit to deliver the sound. All three components contribute equally in the realization of the installation, but each piece is individually considered to stand alone.
Inviting others to view this work is a joyful, humbling exercise. Asking them to abandon themselves in this work is far deeper, visceral. Trust is requested; trust to use the installation's vocabulary to connect, like I did, the past with the present in the moment of its experience; something sacred to the heart.
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