In life, loss, pain and death are inevitable. The most recent loss was my cousin Jeff; who died in the fall by his own hand. This may not have happened if asking for help in terms of mental illness was less stigmatized. Grief is ugly, painful, and endless. It hurts… it stopped up my throat, clogged my chest and muddied my thoughts. These pieces come from the depths of that grief, a harrowing experience I am still battling. The organic and putrid forms utilize the bodily qualities of wax, intermingled with glass, hair, detritus, ink, glaze and more bleed into each other in each piece. Parts of me are rotting in the sun or dying and falling off. But other parts are flourishing. Grief changes us for better or for worse.
In addition to my own process with grief I was inspired by Victorian mourning rituals, because the bereaved would preserve pieces of the deceased to move through their grief, from art made from hair to the ‘stages’ of mourning.
The last three images are QR codes for videos of wax pieces in the sculpture on the floor.
