Dianne Smith Remix RepurposeStudio Documentation & Critique Group 1/4
I have been documenting my process. This is particularlysignificant because I do not usually work in this way. Along withthe images in this presentation are excerpts containing some ofmy thoughts as it pertains to the work. This process has aloudme to uncover things about myself which I am still examining. The following images are of a few of the pieces I havebeen working on since Berlin. I am investigating the use ofdifferent types of materials, from my kitchen spices to dirt left inan old plant pot. Some of the pieces shown are works inprogress.
Some materials I use: rope , burlap, cloth,clothing, cinnamon sticks, belts, string,deconstructed basket.
This piece is made with belts thatwere sitting in my closet. I realizedthat I had been holding on to themsecretly reliving my past. See whenI wore these I was but a mere size4. Today I am a 12.
White T-shirts, dinnernapkins, and a tiny piece ofAfrican fabric. What dothese things have incommon? All my stuffknotted and looped.
I used to wonder why it would takeme so long to rid myself of things.Now I know, objects have memory.I would wear my golden yellow zipup jacket, you see, it was myfavorite, it brought such joy andcomfort. So did my long sleeveblue Tee... What does this sayabout me?
Cardboard, dirt, gesso, graphite, reused wood panel,paprika, and other spices were my choices. Choice is aninteresting thing. Those of us who can do it freely oftentake it for granted. As I was working on this piece I keptquestioning my choices. Suddenly it occurred to me, itwas simply because I could. it started me thinking aboutthe countless women around the world who are not asfortunate. They are unable to make any choices simplybecause they could!
A knot here, a twist there, and a loop... It wasn’t longbefore it started coming back to me. When I was alittle girl spending Summers’s in Belize my Aunt Louisetaught me how to weave, the women in my familywere weavers. We would sit on the veranda weavingbaskets and bags. I want this memory to bring backmore joy than it does. It always felt like weaving was apunishment not a gift. However, I am grateful forknowing that little bit of my family history and thememory.
Boxes, boxes, boxeseverywhere. I couldn’tbring myself to throwthem out. So, thatdecision started methinking. What dopeople do with usedboxes? What have Inoticed in the city, inmy travels? Some of usmake art, some mayuse them to pack andmove and others outof necessity, they needthem for shelter.
Garbage, trash, stuff: Whydo I have so much? Itseems no matter how I tryI always end up with awhole lot of waste. I amassembling this piece onethrowaway at a time. Myconcern is that I do notpack my space with somuch waste that itbecomes a problem!