Why should our bodies end at the skin?, 2024, Fabric, steel, ceramics, wood, paint, multi-channel soundscape, 80 x 52 x 23 feet; Installation Photos: James Harnois, Courtesy of MadArt.
(scroll down for description of the project)
Video Documentation: "Why should our bodies end at the skin?" MadArt Studio, Seattle Washington (James Harnois)
Why should our bodies end at the skin? explores the intersections of geology, mythologies, and intergenerational bonds. I created a 43-foot long, pink and black textile sculpture that hung from the ceiling and then extended across the floor. It is an upside down volcano, a visual metaphor for breaking boundaries and disorientating the senses. I was inspired by epic eruptions, like Mount Tambora in Indonesia (1815), where the event affected places on the other side of the globe. Mount Tambora’s eruption created crop failures and climate change in Europe. A volcano is also a metaphor for how seemingly unrelated events are actually connected, analogous to the construction of how history is told from the perspective of those in power.
Surrounding the volcano are ceramic sculptures inspired by my family, ancient burial jars, and mythologies from the Philippines. The sculptures sit on top of clusters of pink pedestals referencing geological columnar structures created by intense volcanic activity. Neon pink symbolizes sensuality and poison, as color has been associated with the dangerous “other.” This pink is meant to excite the senses, the opposite of the late 1900s “Baker-Miller Pink” which was used in a pseudo-scientific way to calm prisoners in the US by painting the interior of their cells pink.
The ceramics are an amalgamation of human, animal, and plant forms. Some vessels have faces that reference myself and my family members; others refer to mythological Filipino animals or images of the okir, a precolonial plant-based design from the Southern Philippines. Many of the ceramics also contain textile imprints from embroidered piña (pineapple fiber) clothing belonging to my father and grandmother. The vessels were originally inspired by ancient burial jars found in caves throughout the Philippines, created to honor the dead and their transition to the next life.
Permeating the installation is a soundscape created in collaboration with Finnish composer, producer, and musician Lau Nau, which features field recordings including me and my daughter's heartbeat, volcanic rumblings, underground recordings with a geophone, and poetry whispered by J.A. Dela Cruz-Smith. The effect is a continual rumbling that fills the space and can be heard and felt as one walks through the exhibition.