The landscapes of technology can feel endless: with links, information, and thoughts copying-and-pasting into oblivion. Since technology has become our primary method of communication, I have begun to wonder about the frameworks of these devices, communication tools, and social networks. Could they be strong enough to hold the emotional weight we pile into them? In tending to intense emotions of grief and loss, what space do those feelings have in our lives when they are constantly contrasted with never-ending TikToks and Instagram posts with unsettling, upbeat inspirational music? Screens can oversimplify the complexities of life, taking our experience and translating it into a string of pixels void of human nuance and context. What human part of us is left uncommunicated, and what nuance is left unnoticed? How does technology help me feel emotionally connected, seen, and held? Is technology strong enough to house all of our complexities and dichotomies within its binary nature; is it strong enough to hold all of us? What happens if it cracks? Who am I in this space, and who am I outside of it?
Pictured: All the petals fall eventually (thread, 2022)
thread on tulle
2022
thread
2022
thread
2022
thread
2022
thread
2019
thread
2018
thread on tulle & various textile
2022
thread on tulle
2022
thread hung on dowel, painted grid
2022
thread hung on dowel, painted grid
thread
2022
thread hung from dowel, painted grid
