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I sense when I am making these pictures that they not only describe the ephemeral self and the unstable experience thereof, but also capture a fugitive landscape. Perhaps these images are about impermanence; the assertion and negation of self and impermanence of nature, of place. Each of these images describes a solitary moment. I am not referring to the solitude of the figure, but to a solitary moment in time; a time, place and experience that will never occur again. It is free from context, connected to nothing, fictional. There is no reference to a tangible reality. Instead the reference is made to the internal reality of the subconscious.
The experiences I am having when I make these pictures, and the pictures themselves are my very sustenance. They offer me some clue as to who I am, however complicated and indecipherable. They tell me things I did not yet know about myself, things I had never articulated or given awareness to. Looking at them now I can see they are about my role as a woman, and as a human being in a world that is often violent and binding. They speak of fear, submission and overwhelming exhaustion. They embody sexuality and death; both of which are, for me, strongly linked to the relent of self-possession.
I have also found that they spark my memory of the profound ability for a human being to sustain both overwhelming sorrow and exhilarating joy; the experience of the sublime amidst the instability of the ever-shifting, conflicted chaos of the internal self.
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