artist statement
When broken down into its two constituents—re, a prefix indicating repetition or backward motion, and cord from Latin cordis, meaning heart—the word record simply means return to the heart. I am compelled by notions of documentation, preservation and control of any and all matters of the heart.
The word understand, in Old English, translates simply as: to stand under, or among; while in Greek: to stand upon or before—both etymologies imply that understanding is experienced through the body.
Clay’s ability to register and preserve touch, along with its use throughout history as a vessel, makes it an apt material for holding. When fired, its seductive promise of permanence contrasted with its inherent potential for shattering makes it a compelling material for letting go. Thus, with clay and word as my registrars, I make and unmake documents as a way to process and give testament to the negligible inner turmoil of the heart, lend an ear to the unvoiced, and sometimes have the last word.
I see clay as a metaphor for the material world—the stuff of which we are all made. When I press clay onto something or someone, it becomes a physical embodiment of the space between. It is my connection to, and protection from, the world.