Get Out of My Garden

Chapter One: In the Beginning

I went to a concert to sleep, isn’t that strange. The noises playing were supposed to make me fall asleep. All I did was toss and turn, I felt trapped in a hallucination. It disrupted the dreams of my garden.

I love my garden, it is my sanctuary. I go into the world searching for new treasures to add to it. Once I treat them the way they deserve, everything fits into place. They transform into the perfect organisms, dominating specific niches.

Chapter Two: My helpers

I like to learn about my buddies, my dear propagated friends. I read a book called about making ink, and it taught me how to take a friend and turn it into something new. He calls it a foragers guide, I call it a path to finding new happenings. Tomato stems, plastic bags, Tumeric and muffin containers. They are all friends in my eyes and they make my garden shine bright.

Chapter Three: Recipe Books

I like to read other recipes on making new transmutations. There are deep histories and many traditions amongst others using these organisms to make colours. Recipes books have told me so many stories about the colour being extracted from living beings. Humans seem to research heavily into the harmful effects of their creations. Not very smart if you ask me.

Chapter Four: Extra Ingredients 

I know a lot about my buddies, but there is so much more to explore. I am in constant competition with myself to bring the sparkle out of their eyes. Every step of every method is meticulously explored. I throw them in my pot and extract their colour. I mush and grind them with my hands, then turn them into liquid. Documenting each result in my sample book.

Chapter Five: I think about you 

Materials tell us many stories however, most people don’t think of them that way. All my friends, no matter how inactive they may appear are always activated from our emerging relationships. I am seduced by their power to change spontaneously. I found myself coordinating them through my participant perspective. As my dear friend changes, so do my perceptions of them.

Chapter Six: The land(scape)

People don’t know how to interact with the organisms of the world. They either take too much from it or take up all of their space. They don’t put care into each being as if it were a member of their own family. They make “wastescapes” and then complain about them. Using only linear forms of consumption and regeneration. 

Chapter Seven: The New Saga Begins

You have to understand the material and its role to properly tell its story. Substances are enmeshed with meaning. The more we homogenize our relationships with our dear propagated friends, the stronger the language becomes over matter.

Chapter Eight: The sounds

There are lots of things I like to listen too. I sit outside and absorb the songs on the creatures outside. They remind me of the buddies I am take care of in my garden. A different noise for a different day, a different sound for a different movement. Everything makes sense once it gets put together.

Chapter Nine: The Last Chapter

My Garden number two, the sweetest thing that no one could ever give me. It’s my special spot.

AfterWord:

I took this opportunity to be more imaginative with my bibliography. Imagination has been echoed in the work I’ve made while being in Florence. Forcing me to reflect on myself as an artist. Discovering what makes me want to fabricate, and the materials I choose to use. For a long time I assumed I couldn’t be imaginative, and there was no place for it in OCAD or my life. I fell into my own personal troupe of what I thought was to be expected of a “fine art student”. The good child who made it into the fancy Florence program. Whatever the fuck that means. Conducting research differently than most other students. I almost always make and then think about it later. Theory is secondary to me because I have a hard time connecting with most of them. I always feel like a fraud when I read them, pretending to understand what is going on. On the other hand I do more tactile and non-academic research. My hands become my research partners. In the case with the current installation, I barely looked at any theories this time around. By generating something that comes from myself, it creates a compelling space that myself , and even others, get lost in. I am aware that things influence me and that’s all I need to create something. Creating something that others may find weird, makes me comfortable. This also aligns with the installation I am making. It is my space, my objects, my plants, my corner. You can look at it, you may even touch it, however I am not so sure you can fully integrate with it. I am using natural materials and synthetic to create a conversation about the environment. However, this is layered with the concept of the insider and outsider. I make the space and the viewer gazes upon it. The viewer becomes the anthropologist. However the space will always be for me. A place where I can feel safe, and maybe other people can connect to that as well. As my friend Charlotte said, “You are such a nester”.