A Layered Space: The Closet & The Bedroom (v.3)
Art Museum of South Texas in Corpus Christi, TX
June 2 - Oct 4, 2020
In its 3rd iteration, A Layered Space opened at the Art Museum of South Texas during strict Coronavirus restrictions. A mixture of Canvas Peels and actual items, it was a snapshot in time as if locked in a dreamscape where things seemed to make sense, yet it doesn’t. Visitors were welcomed into a reimagined space where my truth and vulnerability were on full display. There was deep sorrow communicated through the objects, lack of objects and orientation of the room. But simmering beneath those emotions, hope and love began to emerge. It was a whisper in that year, with so such uncertainty globally and personally, goodness and health were begging to be felt again. Full statement from that time below gallery.
We were 4 months away from celebrating our 16th wedding anniversary. We both had turned 40 within that year. I, just 12 days prior. I came home from work on a Monday with groceries to the most hurtful news anyone could receive. He left shortly after to never sleep in our bed again. He kept his key, as we were now splitting the mortgage. It took months for the paperwork to finalize. In the meantime, he would enter while I was at my day job, allegedly to gather items and see the dogs. On a Thursday, after my workday had ended, I returned home to find the most jarring scene. The closet, in which we shared together for most of our lives, was suddenly half empty. Hangers dangled like a harrowing wind chime displaying the void. The pain I felt was now visual. It was gut wrenching; my whole identity questioned.
I was left.
I was a 40 year old cliché. A rom-comm, except it was tragic and I was cast as the lead.
In the months that followed, I took that visual and recreated it. This is a symbol of loss.
I held the story close, in secret, not wanting to be judged by acquaintances or colleagues. I was ashamed. Hurricane Harvey hit that August. Dear friends and neighbors lost everything. I couldn’t talk about my petty loss.
As the collection emerged, I began to slowly and quietly share and exhibit. The story trickled out and the tears subsided as I focused on the process of artmaking.
Symbolizing time are the dogs. They stayed with me after the marriage ended and became my life source, the reason to get up every morning.
The rocking chair was once owned by a woman with an almost identical story, except hers included an infant. I adopted that chair 13 years ago when her husband left. It is where she photographed her baby every Thursday.
Intentionally conceived to be an interruption, are the wedding dresses. As one goes through the day, reminders of the pain interject themselves. You may be mindlessly driving to work, choosing the right avocado, or shopping for your garden, then WHAM the movie reel in your head starts playing. Without permission, the memories of the pain demand attention and you scramble for the remote to turn them off. 16 dresses symbolize 16 years of marriage.
This work is a continuation of the original installation "A Layered Space" from 2009. This collection is a unique photographic process I created, The Canvas Peel. Since the original exhibition, my house, and life, are completely different. The installation will continue to evolve here all summer and beyond.
The Canvas Peel was first discovered as an accident. It took over 3 years to master including how to recreate it and control it. As technology evolves and my art practice improves, I must retest and rediscover the method all over again. The process is still secret today.