Please Scream Inside Your Heart

A solo exhibition at Gold/*Scopophilia Nov 2020-Jan 2021

“Please scream inside your heart,” is a phrase that was printed by a Japanese newspaper in the summer of 2020. In an apparent effort to minimize amusement park goers’ exposure to one another’s breath/spit, and to help hinder the spread of the coronavirus– patrons were asked not to scream while riding rollercoasters.

 For me this is a perfect metaphor for the experience of 2020. From the virus, to riots, to racism, and wildfires this past year has probably been one of the scariest time periods most of us have lived through. The entire time it seems we’ve been holding our breath, waiting to exhale. It’s hard to breathe deeply behind and mask, and it’s even harder to contain your anxiety and the urge to just SCREAM.

I find this also a perfect metaphor for my art practice in many ways.

As a kid I spent a lot of time in my room, alone. I was sensitive and introverted and often “hibernated,” as my parents called it, to escape the turmoil of our often tumultuous familial relationship, and the emotional heaviness that often came along with that. While alone in my room, I would draw, watch television, listen to music, snack on various items I had hoarded, and even write stories or sing songs to myself.

Fast forward to 2020, and that is basically what I have been doing during the entire pandemic, retreating into my own world, filled with personal objects, my favorites foods, and creative projects.

While this exhibition was originally conceived pre-pandemic, a good bit of this work and the way I view the work has been colored by the quality of this time period.

Shells, body parts, foods, and other odd objects from my daily life and my relationships have made their way into the work. While imaginary objects such as rainbows, artifacts from outer space, and fantastical landscape elements co-mingle.

Please Scream Inside Your Heart is an ode to the child in me who is still in her room, hibernating from the world and conceiving her own private space to dream, imagine and play, until the dawn of a new day.

Afterword: This essay was written before the election. And it has now taken on a slightly different context. Though there is still work to be done– it seems clear that change is finally coming for our country. And that feels like a new day is dawning. So, this exhibition is an ode to all of that.

🖤