I subtitled an earlier installation (Or x Do x oR) “Poetic Inertia Framed” and wondered why I wrote the phrase in the context of my work with word, book, box and image.  I enrolled in a creative writing course soon after that.  And as I was dismantling the installation, I came upon three building supply sales slips under the door sculpture. They asked the question, “What are you building today?”  The echo of the question insisted on my attention so I held onto those slips. That same month I took a train trip through the South.

As I traveled, I noticed “tabby” oyster shell foundations of the old plantation homes. I was drawn to the aged, textural, and worn quality of the debris. The beauty of the Haight blue color (found in rooms of the African slaves) struck me as I thought about the role of slaves as the foundation of the Southern power structure. I brought these thoughts to today and mused on who and what maintains our power structure?

In August ’01, the train took me to New York City. I climbed the Twin Towers and the Empire State Building for the aerial views of Manhattan. I was struck by the contrast of feeling between the two: on the Twin Tower, I experienced a surreal feeling of being far removed from everything—no connection to the earth, only space, sky and birds whereas on the Empire State Building I felt the heart, soul and pulse of the City and its people.

Back home after the downing of the Twin Towers, the earlier question, “What are you building today” suddenly became a serious one. Before that, the phrase was playing whimsically in my mind. The towers, falling, brought me down to earth. I started to play with 4 x 4 building blocks by stacking them and making shapes that resembled the twin towers and posts. I began to observe and think about the challenge of making shapes in a space that responded to this question.

These accumulated experiences and events became a collection of sorts. Like a bird building its nest, I gathered debris that suddenly was informing a body of work. I continued to study and write poetry and wanted to translate its spirit visually in a space. I also continued to work with a variety of mediums: books, boxes, found objects, prints and photographs.  I investigated a new material, scrim, because of its translucent and light qualities—wanting the materials to create a range of feeling that was both complementary and contrasting.

AddEndUmUn resulted—an installation of poetic space informed by a question and revealed on the carbon washed walls of a gallery. The materials collected and used reflected the content and were placed in clamshell box constructions that offered compressed views, both intimate and expansive. The objects shaped the space and expressed a feeling of indefiniteness wavering between thoughts and sensations, feelings and ideas.

The title, AddEndUmUn, is a play on words that makes reference to both a working process and materials of the installation.

Tara’s Take On A Tale

Tara’s Take On A Tale takes the book to another place. It’s a sculptural form with an invitation to interact by reading a little book* on its backside. There’s a conceptual element to the work and it is not solely concerned with form. The two together ask the viewer to search for a standpoint—another way to relate and yet there’s a poetry that transcends the visual.

*Book Contents:
wrinkle free non-iron wrinkle free
non-iron wrinkle free non-iron
12 midnight
Shunyu Suzuki “The secret of Zen is just 2 words: Not always so.”
 

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