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Suburban Mythology
It seems that I am an observer. An observer of life, of people, of experiences and their psychological impact. I want to make the internal mindscape visible. Working with materials and techniques traditionally associated with the home—paper, fabric, wood and thread—I create scenes that explore metaphors of real or imagined feelings from my life and those around me. I am interested in the family system, of dynamics within the rooms of the house, of the roles we are taught and what we choose to do with them. Generations pass forward their unfinished business along with their stories; I want to understand what I contain. As I prepared for my wedding, I was surprised to observe my own feelings of disorientation, anxiety and loss. I couldn’t wait to marry my partner, but I was afraid of what I would leave behind, as well as of what I was expected to be. What does it mean to be a wife in this century? The 1950s Kitchen Ghost Series of prints I made were a search for that answer. While we may feel that we have moved well past those antiquated notions today, I would argue that many of the values of keeping up appearances, perfectionism, materialism and inflexible gender roles are still quite strong in our culture today. Turning, as I often do, to the haven of libraries and bookstores for guidance, I found research on transitions and the myths and rituals surrounding them. I began to build physical models of the psychological terrain we cross as we move through our lives, trying to develop a tangible way to understand these intangible and yet powerful forces. From this, I designed the performance/installation piece Geography of Transition. Witnessing the lives of those around me creates more associations. I discovered I needed to make peace with my own childhood hospitalization when several people close to me began struggles with illness. We think of hospitals as places of healing, and yet they are not warm friendly spaces. Tangles of IV tubes surround metal-framed beds connected to beeping monitors—not the way we want to picture bed, bedroom, or nighttime. To describe this world, I added paper hospital drapes to my vocabulary of materials. Using storebought patterns and my sewing machine to create the afflicted series of dresses and bedlinens, I played with the dichotomy of home and institution. Now I am a Celebrant, and I bring my training and skills into the art of meaningful ceremony, bringing attention to the importance of the moment by creating custom rites of passage for individuals and their loved ones, as well as special ceremonial elements for the events themselves. For more information on the ceremonies I create, visit Meaningful Celebrations and Meaningful Weddings. Please note: all photos of my work are copyrighted by my talented photographer Rebecca Cinclair and may not be reproduced without written permission. |