I consider myself a feminist even though, or maybe because, I don’t think about my uterus all that often. I have plenty of opinions about the state of the world and the people in it and what might make this place even better than it already is. Usually though, I leave behind the more tangibly political components of my life when I make my artwork, and instead I try to make something beautiful that encourages people calm down and be nicer to one another, rather than gear up and talk about touchy issues. But lately I have noticed that at some point, the uterus tends to ask for (and get) a little more attention than all the other organs – whether we possess one or not.
Contemplating having children eventually happens to all of us, and no matter which way we end up deciding for ourselves, most of us have bodies that continue to put some energy into the possibility of procreation pretty regularly throughout adult life. This got me thinking about how much creative energy I have been expressing and ignoring. I like putting my creative energy into the world through art, but nonetheless my body has made it a ritual to create about a baker’s dozen worth of “opportunities” for procreation per year. Needless to say, this has happened for a long time.
I wanted to make an installation specifically for the show that was to commence my residency at the Rio Bravo Fine Art Gallery, and I have always been a little superstitious. For example, I have a particular fondness for the number two. So you can imagine my delight and amazement when I did the math and I was due to have dropped 222 eggs come June of 2009, the month that the show opened. It was an omen. I HAD to do something with this confluence. So here are my metaphoric eggs, and my interpretation of that powerful, creative place where all of us come from.
Materials used: Kiln formed glass, fishing line, metal poles, adhesive.