Soft sculptural experiment with our ability to receive energy from form and poetic function.

Thinking about how the new age has trended again, in a new shade of ambiguous, about our return to former periods of hope and confidence. Thinking about how capitalism consumes and commodifies all in it’s path like the nothingness. Not new information, but we confront these ideas afresh in each new phase of our existence. Feeling, more than ever, a slide towards total non-participation in this economy and it’s inequality, power structures and destruction… feeling the dark/light mystery in the apparent impossibility of that and examining the privileges of that position and my relationship to it as an artist. Watching things disintegrate. Walking a fine line between total failure and not being consumed. And toward some other way?

Is our personal confidence linked to our sense of participation in the economy, affirmation from this system? How do we make our art as a way to distinguish ourselves from that? Optimism is the flesh on the bones of existence. And what this art is made of.

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