un-becoming well-ness
2021
epoxy resin, recycled t-shirts, varing dimensions


Isolation of a negative space, a negative space that is an abject hole. An abject hole from which I emerge, from which we emerge, with our salmon sandwiches and dust covered shins and calfs. Burrowing into the hole, burrowing into a non-space, the passage between the entanglement of the rhizome, multiplicity, abject multiplicity, opacity, here we go, down into the brain.
Needing to create objects from this space. Needing to make beautiful objects from this non-space. Irate non-space. I ran a non-space.
There are others here too. Poetic agents on a mission. The mission. Knock-off Missoni scarfs and rebellious middle names.
Considering these balls, the t-shirts, worn down from fervid over-use, slapped on when we needed that right fit, the fit in and sexed out look of a sweaty push. Hustled out and tattered, stripped to strings, knotted and tangled. A form of weaving, a form of interlinked meditative moments. Thrown in the past. take the left, take the right. Weave it down. Push it down in to the hole. Cover it in resin, make it shine. Hideous shiny things made of plastic. Flintering skittering shiny orbs floating in the process above the hole from which they came. an amalgamation of thought and sweat.