Death is inherently funny. It is not humorous like a joke, but the ways in which we express our feelings of death and the process of grieving are ironic. When we experience an irreversible loss, we grieve by constructing a “permanent” monument to represent and honor the dead. This comfort found in permanence, some form of legacy, is what drives the appeal of a tombstone or a donation in the name of the deceased. Thus, there is simultaneously a fear and a desire derived from this idea of the irreversible.
In thinking about the passing of those close to me, I have been reflecting about the reality and consequences of this irony. It is true that a tombstone may last hundreds of years, but what is its value when those who knew the person no longer exist?
This same tension is hidden within the opposite event; our understanding of birth and childhood. The development of children within the first few years of life is outstanding, yet in our minds we imagine our youth as a fixed moment in time. We often keep these memories as if they were frozen in a glass case and forget about our rapid period of change. Once again, from even the beginning of our lives we find comfort in the illusion of a permanence.
My work challenge these notions of artificial stability through the humor created by the contrast between formulaic gestures and daily rituals in a recontextualized setting. Yet, as I have gotten older, my own personal views and conversations around these subjects have changed and as a result, my artwork has acted as my diary for each stage of my life. In a way, these pieces, a physical reminder of my past thoughts and actions, are my own fleeting attempt to create permanence by documenting the ephemeral.