haunting

I’ve long discussed my interest in print media relates to a religious upbringing, likening print techniques to rituals used in the church I grew up in. The same, if not incredibly similar, gestures, materials, and processes have been practiced both by those centuries ago and people today. In this way, I evoke the language of printmaking to explore what haunts us. A haunting is a reminder, sometimes vengeful, often sorrowful, but mostly it is an echo of a thing it once was. A residue.

collaborations with Vincent

These works were created during my residency at Millay Arts in July, 2023. I crafted a séance using tips and how-to videos from the internet, then used a drawing planchette to connect with queer ancestors. I let them guide the colored pencil marks they left on the page, then later worked back into them using ink and collage. I never asked their names.

ghosts in the machine

Upon first seeing a photograph around 1840, French painter Paul Delaroche allegedly decried “From today, painting is dead!” Similar conversations are happening now surrounding artificial intelligence. These are an ongoing suite of etchings combining AI generated text and imagery with traditional intaglio techniques. I use infamous photographer William H. Mumler’s spirit photographs as a basis for the imagery, allowing algorithms to remix them as they please. I’m thinking a lot about labor; the labor to physically scrape the metal to make way for new imagery, the labor Mumler exerted to fool his patrons, the labor of data scientists trying to understand the machine learning they designed.

a repetition

Ghosts evade time. A haunting is an echo of the past, returned to the present, and speaks to our futures. We tend to try and exorcise ghosts, but more often than not this is a vain attempt at hiding our mistakes and shame. I am attempting to explore the ghosts I find haunting us through temporal distortions, printed matter, and other strange objects. When given the opportunity to demonstrate techniques or materials to students, I often cull from queer history as a means to see myself in those who came before me, as well as keep that history in mind.