Projets. (mobile looks better rotated!)
“Où la culture est 'consommation' plutôt que d'être aux petits oiseaux”
Harley Davidson flag tied in a babiche pattern, 2020, (20” x 20”).
Old ways of making are seen as nothing more than a relic.
Driving across rural Québec as a kid for hours in the summer, I couldn’t help but notice all those trucks and garages lined to the brim with Harley Davidson merchandise.
An expression of pride to be a part of a club you’ve consumed your way into.
Buying, constantly buying.
During the pandemic, companies like Amazon have immensely profited from our rampant consumerism.
A culture of capitalism.
In many ways, traditional displays of Québecois identity have largely been replaced with these manufactured symbols. When discussing babiche with my mom, a traditional Québecois way of tying the seat of a chair, I’d often hear kétaine describe it - kitsch.
Nothing more than kitsch.
No shiny marketing strategy to save it when a plastic molded chair will do just fine at a fraction of the price.
I’ve seen a thousand plastic chairs.
Plastic just fades into the decor.
My mom told me stories of ceinture fléchée, danse à carrée, and babiche.
A thousand stories but not a slight of sight.
I had to learn how to tie babiche.
Attempting to pick up the pieces of a lost tradition,
I reconstruct the past with the objects of a manufactured culture.
The action of looking is one of violence, to see and be seen is to exist in flux between the observer and the observed. This coexistence leads to anxieties of vision.
I’m most aware of my image when I’m being seen;
I see myself completely.
I’m aware of the interpretations my body exudes to others who see it.
My work looks at looking.
Through images of my body I come to grasp the ways I’m being seen,
How I want to be seen,
The ways I see myself.
The semiotics of manhood have perpetually left me uneasy with myself, feeling stuck between the expectations of stoicism and violence.
I was always the shy one, resigned to simply sit in the back and observe.
But observation incites a passive violence onto the viewed, and at times an active one onto myself.
The violence of inadequacy.
The semiotics of manhood shape my self perception.
The camera looks at those whom I aspire to be.
The observers tell me whom I should aspire to be.
I have a hard time letting go of the role of observer, I’m constantly drawn to mechanical means of reproducing my perceptions. Unable to distance myself from what my mind sees for itself and what the camera produces. The use of text attempts to reconcile these anxieties, challenging the monolithic truth associated with images. I’m laying bare intrusive thoughts, of past and present perceptions.
What is a memory but time erasing itself.
Erosion is the process of a second lasting a millenia.
Compounding.
The crushing weight of it all.
Compounding.
I’m allowed to capture memories of the candid streets but they are mine and mine alone.
Selfishly hoard images of unknown faces taken for selfish reasons.
When does time erase the illegality of breaching another's privacy?
The image endures its natural decay.
To shed the mechanical reproductions of photographic memory.
These images were once illegal to display.
I took no credit to avoid criminality.
Now they are mine once more,
Time erodes me from the order of law.
“Où la culture est 'consommation' plutôt que d'être aux petits oiseaux”
Harley Davidson flag tied in a babiche pattern, 2020, (20” x 20”).Old ways of making are seen as nothing more than a relic.
Driving across rural Québec as a kid for hours in the summer, I couldn’t help but notice all those trucks and garages lined to the brim with Harley Davidson merchandise.
An expression of pride to be a part of a club you’ve consumed your way into.
Buying, constantly buying.
During the pandemic, companies like Amazon have immensely profited from our rampant consumerism.
A culture of capitalism.
In many ways, traditional displays of Québecois identity have largely been replaced with these manufactured symbols. When discussing babiche with my mom, a traditional Québecois way of tying the seat of a chair, I’d often hear kétaine describe it - kitsch.
Nothing more than kitsch.
No shiny marketing strategy to save it when a plastic molded chair will do just fine at a fraction of the price.
I’ve seen a thousand plastic chairs.
Plastic just fades into the decor.
My mom told me stories of ceinture fléchée, danse à carrée, and babiche.
A thousand stories but not a slight of sight.
I had to learn how to tie babiche.
Attempting to pick up the pieces of a lost tradition,
I reconstruct the past with the objects of a manufactured culture.
“Virae”
(Virtual work, 2020)The action of looking is one of violence, to see and be seen is to exist in flux between the observer and the observed. This coexistence leads to anxieties of vision.
I’m most aware of my image when I’m being seen;
I see myself completely.
I’m aware of the interpretations my body exudes to others who see it.
My work looks at looking.
Through images of my body I come to grasp the ways I’m being seen,
How I want to be seen,
The ways I see myself.
The semiotics of manhood have perpetually left me uneasy with myself, feeling stuck between the expectations of stoicism and violence.
I was always the shy one, resigned to simply sit in the back and observe.
But observation incites a passive violence onto the viewed, and at times an active one onto myself.
The violence of inadequacy.
The semiotics of manhood shape my self perception.
The camera looks at those whom I aspire to be.
The observers tell me whom I should aspire to be.
I have a hard time letting go of the role of observer, I’m constantly drawn to mechanical means of reproducing my perceptions. Unable to distance myself from what my mind sees for itself and what the camera produces. The use of text attempts to reconcile these anxieties, challenging the monolithic truth associated with images. I’m laying bare intrusive thoughts, of past and present perceptions.
“N. du Greffe: 25579”
Inkjet Print on wooden frame with motion sensor activated audio, 2019. (15” x 24.5”)What is a memory but time erasing itself.
Erosion is the process of a second lasting a millenia.
Compounding.
The crushing weight of it all.
Compounding.
I’m allowed to capture memories of the candid streets but they are mine and mine alone.
Selfishly hoard images of unknown faces taken for selfish reasons.
When does time erase the illegality of breaching another's privacy?
The image endures its natural decay.
To shed the mechanical reproductions of photographic memory.
These images were once illegal to display.
I took no credit to avoid criminality.
Now they are mine once more,
Time erodes me from the order of law.
