In
my early teens I visited the "Holyland
Model", a 1:50 scale model of biblical Jerusalem on display
at a hotel in modern Jerusalem. Partly inspired by this memory,
three years ago I began "kitchen" experiments with
sugar cubes and ancient building techniques such as arches and
domes. Eventually incorporating icing as mortar, I pushed the
structural properties of the materials to their limits in an
effort to distance the results from being mere architectural
miniatures and allow the structures to develop unique forms.
At times I feel like the builder of a crystal city, a scientist
making large-scale molecular models or a gardener cultivating
a cancer that grows over and through the rooms of the gallery.
The
cubes suggest the elemental building blocks of a child’s
toy as well as the stone foundations of ancient cities. The installations
develop much as cities do, following a history of construction,
destruction, and reconstruction. As the forms develop, their
growth mimics that of natural organisms as well as cities. As
nature is politically ambivalent, the installation may appear
either as parasitic growth or benign life suggesting hope and
rebirth.
The
sugar cubes are elemental building blocks in another way, as
food-stuff. Kool-Aid was introduced later for its contrasting
color, sweet smell and because I felt a need for a water element
of some kind. Practically devoid of nutritional substance, Kool-Aid,
icing and sugar
cubes are all ‘empty’ food materials in the same
way that cake is empty in relation to bread. My aim is to develop
a tension between the subject matter and the materials. The domestic
setting of Haus also aids in connecting disturbing world events
to the home as destruction and death are suggested in crumbing
blocks of sugar and pools of blood red candy.
The choice in materials follows also my increasing discomfort
in making art that is entirely removed from the world of people
and events I live in. I don't want to be entirely formal, nor
do I want to be flatly political. This formal/political conflict
is partly why I like to work with these highly associative domestic
materials in a largely formalist way.
Whatever
readings they might suggest, the installation is in the end
a trace of the human labor that went into its making.
What emerges from the installation is the figure of its creator/modeler/hobbyist
for whom a world of war and disease is worked through and brought
home.