Being, Human

Winter has become a time for self reflection. There’s been so much reflection that I have felt my insides crumple and squeeze at my core. What is in my head? What is in my heart? Why do I hurt? Why do I worry? When will I move again?

In Being, Human, I explored reflection literally. I wanted to find something to work with that could take on its own shape. A material that was easy to get into that I would not be able to “fix” or “put back” into some original form. I chose masking tape. From a tightly packed perfect roll, I ripped off long pieces, dropped them onto a mirror, and spent time studying their forms. I played with light coming in from a window, and the reflected light off of my dining room wall. The strips tended to curl like ribbon, but clung to themselves at different points, forming tightly coiled or loosely hanging shapes.

In a way, I saw the tape as the human condition. Like tape, we can come from a place of uniformity and order. But we can also be ripped from moments that leave us frayed, wound up, uncomfortably clumped together, or just plain stuck. And sometimes, when dropped onto our heads, we fall from where we stand. The only way back to reason, or something resembling comfort or peace, is to look at right at ourselves and internally, in the hopes of finding some sort of imperfect balance.