For two weeks straight I have been building things in a way I haven't in a long time. Very big things (with the help of amazing friends) and very small things (alone). It's incredibly satisfying to show up and construct something everyday. And to learn. I feel lucky to have this time now, as it will not last. I've been working on things that involve an intense amount of detail. Today I finished a little experiment for Porch Projects, a now-enclosed former sleeping porch off the back of a 1917 row house in DC's Capitol Hill neighborhood. This art space was recently started by the artist Mariah Anne Johnson. Porch Projects is upstairs in her house, so a great space to think about the concept of a home. I was full of ideas and felt free to make something that would less planned and take form. I'm pleased to be a part of this show, as I'm in full support of Mariah's mission: to provide a space for artists to make new work, collaborate, curate, and experiment. I really think DC needs this kind of space for dialogue.
Anyway, experiment is what I did in there, and I had a really good time trying things I've never tried. I've wanted to make a miniature of a photograph I'd taken outside of Santa Fe forever, as the moment has been burned in my mind for more than a year now, so I just tried it. When you attempt to recreate or copy an already existing image, it's funny how fast it can quickly become something else entirely. But because this image is based in reality, and I actually saw it, and photographed it, it was really hard for me to let it go. At first, I had this need to copy it exactly, which was difficult and actually not as interesting once I began getting into the process. What was really interesting was the image in my mind of what I recall, the actual photo, and the process of making- what this became. I kept forming a narrative while constructing materials. I imagined the man (H.H.) living in this self-storage unit, and sneaking in every night, closing the door, and the thoughts he'd have there alone, the sliver of incoming light from outside, the sounds, his smells, the reminders and he kept, and the piles he shifted to comfort or organize what was his home. My senses became heightened when I started to work tiny. But it's also similar to working with the large format camera, as everything is in detail in the ground glass. Here, in building, every little detail had to have a reason for being there. I imagined all these gestures to make the forms, H.H. crumpling a piece of newspaper into a ball, or pinning something to a wall, or kicking his shoe out of place.
Obviously, I could get really into this process, so for a three day deadline of figuring something entirely new, I am satisfied with it as a study. I also admire people who start up spaces that can support such experimentation. Thank you for starting Porch Projects Mariah Anne Johnson.
