Hair Cut pt. 2
Oil, acrylic, puffy paint, fabric paint, thread, and dirt from studio floor on nine layers of nylon tulle fabric. Hung with grommets, monofilament thread, and handmade rope from tulle and wire
Dimensions variable
2021
To the viewer,
I watch you approaching from afar. I acknowledge you when you come into my space. You try to make eye contact with me. You try to write me into your brain as a memory. You try to capture how I look and act in this very moment for you to use against me later. You try to record me, document me, dominate me, but I am much bigger than you. Am I a body, an object, an image, an archive? Are you standing in front of me, behind me, next to me? I desire to blur your boundaries. You want to make sense of me so badly. Come dance around me, I’ll perform with you.
My softness, my lightness, my presence compels you. A tender moment.
My violence, my messiness, my depth, my history of marks disorients you.
You can’t own me, you can’t enter me. I suck you in and push you out.
I’m both soft and stiff,
I move fluidly and I’m rigid,
I’m transparent and slippery and I provide structure.
I am the wedding gown, the ballet tutu, the baby shower decorations, the crinoline under your skirt scratching your skin.
Once poised and graceful in appearance, my veils are destructive, tactile, tough. I’m pulled apart, peeled, ripped, stepped on, stitched, and hung with care. In this confusion and conflation, I welcome you to a liminal space to explore the complexities of my femininities*.
With love,
Hair Cut pt. 2
*My femininities exist in a state of multiplicity, always changing, amorphous, not needing one version or definition.
Images by McKinna Anderson
Dimensions variable
2021
To the viewer,
I watch you approaching from afar. I acknowledge you when you come into my space. You try to make eye contact with me. You try to write me into your brain as a memory. You try to capture how I look and act in this very moment for you to use against me later. You try to record me, document me, dominate me, but I am much bigger than you. Am I a body, an object, an image, an archive? Are you standing in front of me, behind me, next to me? I desire to blur your boundaries. You want to make sense of me so badly. Come dance around me, I’ll perform with you.
My softness, my lightness, my presence compels you. A tender moment.
My violence, my messiness, my depth, my history of marks disorients you.
You can’t own me, you can’t enter me. I suck you in and push you out.
I’m both soft and stiff,
I move fluidly and I’m rigid,
I’m transparent and slippery and I provide structure.
I am the wedding gown, the ballet tutu, the baby shower decorations, the crinoline under your skirt scratching your skin.
Once poised and graceful in appearance, my veils are destructive, tactile, tough. I’m pulled apart, peeled, ripped, stepped on, stitched, and hung with care. In this confusion and conflation, I welcome you to a liminal space to explore the complexities of my femininities*.
With love,
Hair Cut pt. 2
*My femininities exist in a state of multiplicity, always changing, amorphous, not needing one version or definition.
Images by McKinna Anderson