The itinerant
nature by which words travel, ambivalently distracts and draws me to unfocused
specificities. An anonymous opinion spoken, first walks silently, then strepitously.
If it somehow appears in the borders of my recognition, surely through repetition
I will become aware of it. My natural stubborn way, turns the endeavor of
object making, into a sound-filled shame felted hat that fits the corner. Seemingly pulled by means of threads, corresponding lines meet numerous sewn
triangles into concurrent strings that take hold of the white gallery walls.
This is a hat I presented at the Artists in the Market Place number 27 at the Bronx Museum, it was an installation which hosted a sound equiped hat in the shape of a corner, The recording had converations that often happen at museums and galleries, with common sayings that go from "I bet I could do that" to "Excuse me Sir, where is the bathroom?"
