Memoranda and Disquietude
The Memoranda and Disquietude series explore ideas related to memory and cognition. Words and copies of hand written “to do” lists act as compositional elements in my pieces and also represent the concepts I am exploring. Words are visible, obscured or distorted depending on the glass’ surface texture, what is behind them, how they are lighted or their viewing angle. The imagery’s intermittent quality alludes to the experience of struggling to articulate an idea or having words on the tip of your tongue only to have them slip away.
Some of my older acquaintances and loved ones are starting to have memory and information processing difficulties. Witnessing their frustration and thinking about other people’s cognitive challenges (such as my husband’s dyslexia) were the impetus for creating these two series of work.
I use the transparency of glass as a symbol for revealing what is secret, overlooked or lurking beneath the surface. The imagery reflects my feelings of awe and powerlessness as I contemplate transformation such as cell growth and decay within nature and the human body. Issues of emotional struggle and cycles of breakdown and regeneration are also at play.
My working process is a collaboration with materials and a balancing act between randomness and control. When I fire my glass work, it goes through a metamorphosis. I include organic materials that burn and activate chemical reactions and create ghost images in an unpredictable way.
Unlike most glass artists who see bubbles as flaws, I usually try to trap air in my pieces. A glass membrane skirting around the edge of air substantiates the invisible. The magic and whimsy of bubbles also serve as design elements and represent personal symbols. Examples of what they signify to me are: beauty found in imperfection, the buzz of brain activity and hum of human thought. A meditation exercise I perform from time to time consists of picturing bubbles rising in a glass of carbonated water on a table bathed with light. Visualizing this still life helps me feel calm and clear-headed.
My work seeks to arouse a heightened awareness and appreciation of life’s fleeting moments. By freezing time and capturing air, I spotlight something invisible, yet essential for survival and celebrate what is usually taken for granted.
Some of my older acquaintances and loved ones are starting to have memory and information processing difficulties. Witnessing their frustration and thinking about other people’s cognitive challenges (such as my husband’s dyslexia) were the impetus for creating these two series of work.
I use the transparency of glass as a symbol for revealing what is secret, overlooked or lurking beneath the surface. The imagery reflects my feelings of awe and powerlessness as I contemplate transformation such as cell growth and decay within nature and the human body. Issues of emotional struggle and cycles of breakdown and regeneration are also at play.
My working process is a collaboration with materials and a balancing act between randomness and control. When I fire my glass work, it goes through a metamorphosis. I include organic materials that burn and activate chemical reactions and create ghost images in an unpredictable way.
Unlike most glass artists who see bubbles as flaws, I usually try to trap air in my pieces. A glass membrane skirting around the edge of air substantiates the invisible. The magic and whimsy of bubbles also serve as design elements and represent personal symbols. Examples of what they signify to me are: beauty found in imperfection, the buzz of brain activity and hum of human thought. A meditation exercise I perform from time to time consists of picturing bubbles rising in a glass of carbonated water on a table bathed with light. Visualizing this still life helps me feel calm and clear-headed.
My work seeks to arouse a heightened awareness and appreciation of life’s fleeting moments. By freezing time and capturing air, I spotlight something invisible, yet essential for survival and celebrate what is usually taken for granted.