MFA Thesis, 2022-24
between / no longer / and / not yet
2024 – Anna Leonowens Gallery, NSCAD University, Kjipuktuk/Halifax, NS: "between / no longer / and / not yet" – thesis exhibition.
This two-week thesis exhibition explored a range of questions surrounding the evolving nature of identity and the potential of Queerness. My goal was to uncover relational avenues that celebrate coexistence, deep inter- connectedness, and a sense of belonging. This work grapples with feelings of conflict and anxiety, yet it is propelled by the understanding that, amidst the pleasures and pains of a White, neoliberal, patriarchal culture, Queer transgressive bodies forge a lasting erotic dynamism in an otherwise hostile environment. By exploring these themes, the exhibition aimed to illuminate the richness of Queer experiences and the resilience found within them.
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I employed an embodied, circular methodology for my research, theory development, and art-making to ensure that the project would culminate as a living document. In this way, the research informed the theory, which, in turn, re-informed both the research and art-making processes. By taking on the roles of researcher, creator, analyst, and narrator, my personal experiences became an integral part of the process.
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Conceptualized as lived research, this work can be understood as both an inward and collective journey, emphasizing the interplay between individual reflection and communal engagement. Lived research goes beyond traditional research methodologies by embedding the researcher within the subject matter, fostering a more nuanced understanding of the phenomena being investigated. The connections between various research modes, such as reading, writing, imagining, walking, experimenting, collecting, examining, and discussion, were intrinsic to the project’s out-come.
Both artists and writers grapple with bewilderment driven by unanswered questions. I mention this as a pertinent framework for discussing method-ology. The process involves identifying and revisiting these questions daily (akin to locating one’s glasses or medication) and diligently working through them. This work may manifest through the manipulation of language or materials, engendering a state of contemplation that, in my experience, is entirely driven by creative energy. Through ongoing practice, one learns to allow the questions to guide and shape one’s work, leading to a state of openness while grappling with them. It is a laborious process, characterized by physical exertion, intellectual and erotic stimulation, and profound understanding that culminates in a blend of joyful sorrow and intense passion. A process of gradual accumulation occurs with this form of creation — an architecture of comprehension — where the acceptance of concepts is determined sequentially, as in geometry proofs, with corollaries accumulating. There is a constant consideration for what is more apparent-ly accessible, in which a sense of dexterity and connection is foregrounded, with singular offerings that are only available effectively or as tacit, implicit, or non-language knowings.
An amalgamation of undervalued, overlooked, found and discarded objects, along with crafted materials, painting, and images, combine to form a hybrid visual language or poiesis (Whitehead, Poiesis and Art-Making: A Way of Letting-Be, 2003). I use this language to emphasize the rediscovery of the forgotten, hidden, and ignored, but also that which is undiscovered or yet to be discovered. I ask what and how stories should be told, considering new conceptions of the “historical” that connect the no-longer to the not-yet.
While enacting a curious and delicate tension between destruction and endurance, the recovered and recovering states of the materials add nuance to a common, recurring question within the work: What differentiates art, heritage, and debris? My penchant for using unconventional and found materials — such as driftwood, debris, and human detritus — stems from the belief that these materials carry evidence that can lead to forgotten and untold stories. These materials, which are either already named or becoming nameable, possess associations with broader concepts of heritage. This characteristic allows them to contribute to new discussions about heritage-making, encouraging more nuanced and diverse perspectives on what should be preserved for future generations and what can be let go.
In my thesis, I explore the concept of irreconcilability, which suggests that some phenomena resist clear explanation or articulation due to their inherently mysterious nature. This creates a complex dynamic between the desire to provide clarity and the limitations of our understanding. The intricate and multifaceted aspects of these phenomena generate a sense of anxiety and urgency when trying to convey their essence, often leading to a fragmented and incomplete depiction. As a result, while there is a strong motivation to discuss these issues, certain elements remain elusive or are intentionally left unexplained. This intentional omission raises important questions about the impact of these silences and their potential for communication.
In my work titled “It was apparent that the stone was hard,” I sought to create a landscape painting that embodies the aesthetics of the seashore while conveying a sense of ecological unease. Utilizing a wooden support framework and spray foam insulation, I transported my materials to a uniquely textured sandy region of Lower East Chezzetcook beach in Nova Scotia. Given concerns about the drying time of the spray foam and its potential environmental impact, I selected a warm, windless day for the project.
In a single application, I coated the support with spray foam and positioned it foam-side down onto the textured sand, then sat on it for thirty minutes to facilitate adhesion. The pressure exerted by my body allowed the work to capture the beach’s relief, alongside some sand and a single stone. Interactions with local beach-goers provided valuable historical context, enriching the conceptual depth of my work and facilitating discussions about the dynamic relationship between the past and present of the littoral landscape.
The subsequent use of unusual shades of orange and pink in the studio painting phase positions the piece in an environment that is both benign and unsettling, offering a nuanced commentary on the dynamic relation-ship between art, humanity, and nature.
The painting’s complexity arises from combining various material references and exploring how contradictions between objects and ideas can evoke simultaneous reactions. This approach allows for personal interpretation and expresses sentiments that can exceed the limits of language. Although the work is intended to be “read” through the imagination of the tactile experience of the materials, I recognize that interpretation is a deeply personal process. I take care to acknowledge and understand this. Without my words to provide context, the material presence of the work becomes the primary means through which one engages with what invariably begins as a paradoxical or enigmatic “between” space.
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This statement holds particularly true within the context of landscape painting (Olivia Mason & James Riding, Reimagining landscape: Materiality, decoloniality, and creativity, 2023).
On the one hand, I am committed to these intangible, illicit, non-language knowings, these encounters where something seems to be happening, but one never quite grasps it or understands why. I am fascinated by this form of grasping without certainty. I enjoy allowing the irreconcilability to exist while moving forward as an artist without letting it become a roadblock. It is about staying open in the discomfort of that turbulence without seeking mastery or a sense of completion, letting the work deepen and become significant without becoming comfortable. However, there is also a strong desire to share and discuss the work with others, to seek validation or understanding. It can be a complex negotiation between ownership and control — between holding onto control and letting the work exist in its enigmatic and sometimes paradoxical terms.
In developing this thesis, I carefully considered the significance of text in the contexts of discourse analysis and cultural analysis, particularly as it relates to artistic expression. Wherein discourse analysis, a text encom-passes both written and spoken words––including conversations and transcriptions––cultural analysis expands this definition to consider any cultural artifact as text. This broader perspective highlights how visual art, architectural structures, and musical compositions, for example, can serve as rich subjects for analysis, allowing for a deeper understanding of how meaning is constructed and conveyed across various cultural contexts (Fairclough, Critical Discourse Analysis: The Critical Study of Language, 1995: 4).
A compelling illustration of this idea can be found in “Braiding Sweetgrass” by Robin Wall Kimmerer. In her work, Kimmerer examines the linguistic contrasts between the English language and the Potawatomi language, shedding light on how these differences influence artistic expression. She notes that English often emphasizes nouns and possessiveness, while Potawatomi prioritizes interconnectedness, reflected in its higher usage of verbs—about thirty percent of English words are verbs compared to approximately seventy percent in Potawatomi (Kimmerer 2013: 53). This significant linguistic distinction underscores an Indigenous worldview that values relationships and interconnectedness, in contrast to the Western tradition that frequently centers on ownership and individualism. This reveals a paradox: language not only maintains but also shapes our understanding of these concepts, influencing the way art is created, interpreted, and appreciated across cultures.
As this thesis is admittedly as much about its research as it is its artwork, the majority of the derived theory was developed with pedagogical intentions. The goal is to develop an art/life aesthetic as a pedagogical methodology that encapsulates this thesis’ resolve. It is for this reason that I include Ted T. Aoki in the conversation.
Aoki was a Japanese Canadian curriculum scholar who, among many achievements, conceptualized a “living curriculum.” His work focused on relationality, inquisitive learning, and the “and.” The “and” in Aokian thought is very important, as it represents an intersection where various forms of meanings come together and meet, become entangled, gestate, and transform into something else to make new meanings. In Aoki’s “Metonymic Moment #5: Translation/Transformation,” for example, he explains how Japanese linguists, while translating the word “individualism,” became fascinated but puzzled by it, as apparently no such word existed in the Japanese lexicon. They shifted the pronoun “I” into the intertextual space between “individual” and “Hito,” which led to the coining of the word “KO-JIN.” In Japanese conceptualizations, the notion of a person is inherently dualistic, encompassing both the self and other. The term “Ko-Jin” reflects this complexity, signifying “individual” while also implying a sense of interconnectedness that suggests personhood arises from relationality. In contrast, the English term “individual” denotes a self that is “indivisible” and complete in itself, emphasizing a more isolated under-standing of personhood (Pina & Irwin, Curriculum in a New Key: The Collected Works of Ted T. Aoki, 2005: 54). Although it appears to be a Japanese word, “KO-JIN” is a hybrid form constructed in an intercultural and interlinguistic space of difference, with traces of English. KO-JIN’s formation suggests that an exact or absolute translation is impossible in certain situations.
Similarly, postcolonial theorist Homi K. Bhabha has stated that a translation is a signification that is always incomplete and ongoing (Jonathan Ruther-ford, The Third Space: Interview with Homi Bhabha, 1990: 210). Therefore, interpretations and translations, as transformations, are ambivalent con-structions that test the limits of what was previously deemed attainable. This ambivalence in translation exemplifies its metaphorical capability to demonstrate the irreconcilability between language and art. My recognition of these irreconcilable ongoings is a simple cautionary prompt to note the inconclusiveness that exists all around us, that we have learned to live with as both normalcy and truth.
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"The stumbling blocks of a translation frequently exist at its most productive points. Their usual first effect is frustration caused by obstinate resistance (on both sides), but, in their ever-renewed demand for conjecture, these apparent obstacles can allow us to escape the cramped, habitual postures of our own thought” ––Betsy Wing, in Poetics of Relation, by É. Glissant, 1997, xi.
Throughout my thesis exhibition, I explored the concept of irreconcilability, delving into the tensions that exist within conflicting ideas, emotions, and relationships. This theme emerged as I examined the ways in which individuals navigate dissonance in their lives, whether it be personal, societal, or philosophical. Through various artistic mediums, I aimed to capture the essence of these struggles, illustrating how opposing forces can coexist and shape our experiences.
In doing so, I also reflected on the possibility of finding meaning within these contradictions. Each piece of my exhibition served as a visual narrative, inviting viewers to engage with their own interpretations of irreconcilability and to consider how they reconcile their own internal conflicts. I wanted to create an immersive environment that not only challenged perceptions but also fostered a deeper understanding of the complexities of the human experience. Ultimately, my work sought to provoke conversations about acceptance, resilience, and the beauty that can emerge from seemingly irreconcilable situations.
In my work titled “My Father from 300 Years Ago in Scotland,” I intentionally utilized the materiality of objects to express a specific idea that situates the work within the context of historical masculine violence. Weathered lumber, a meticulously burnished piece of oak smothered by plastic detritus, rusty spikes, powder-coated chain, and a bait bag symbolize memories of experiences in predominantly masculine (and often toxic) environments. The primary objective is to create a tangible and relatable experience for the viewer or participant by establishing a physical connection between the sculpture and its audience. The materials possess unique qualities that contribute to conveying the story. This narrative is captured through the interplay between the sculpture's physical presence and its visual impact.
The words between, no longer, and, not yet are neither endings nor beginnings — they are descriptive of a state of transition, contingency, and difference.
in
places
of in-between
and at the edge of
other places that hover
between past, present, and future
circular and repetitive journeys
excavating memory, anti-memory
and the mis-registrations
that invariably occur
when looking from the present
back towards the past
acknowledging the parallax
that occurs when one looks at a time
from another place
“This is a world between potential and determination, between what has happened and what could, a world captured in the tension of its present tense of becoming, a not yet enacted moment where we meet and greet ourselves in the affect that inspires action” –– Dewsbury et al., Enacting Geographies, 2002: 439.
Returning to Homi K. Bhabha, in his work The Location of Culture, he discusses how individuals form identities that exceed the sum of their constituent parts. For instance, he examines how strategies of repre-sentation and empowerment based on race, class, and gender emerge, arguing that the historical process of categorization has led to the establishment of hierarchical structures that perpetuate cruelty and exploitation. Bhabha emphasizes the importance of moving beyond narratives of originary and initial subjectivities to focus on the moments and processes that arise from within cultural differences. He suggests that these intermediate spaces enable the development of strategies that lead to new forms of identity and create opportunities for collaboration and contestation, ultimately redefining the concept of society itself (Bhabha 1994: 1-2). I interpret Bhabha’s concepts of “development of strategies,” “new forms of identity,” and “opportunities for collaboration and contest-ation” as foundational elements for more-than-representational research (Nigel Thrift, “It’s the little things,” 2000: 381). These ideas significantly shaped the framework of this thesis, guiding its exploration of identity and interaction in diverse contexts.​
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Similarly, Lee Edelman, in his thought-provoking essay “The Future Is Kid Stuff: Queer Theory, Disidentification, and the Death Drive” posits that the power and strategic value of otherness and queerness lie in their ability to reveal the symbolic reality that shapes us as individuals while also restrict-ing us from adhering to it. Adhering to Edelman’s argument, we not only live within these figures of meaning but may also be willing to fight for them, even at the cost of our lives, as they often form the very fabric of our literal truths. Edelman’s work emphasizes the importance of acknow-ledging and respecting the complexity of minority and Queer perspectives as they navigate through complex negotiations. He asserts that these perspectives seek to validate emerging cultural hybridities that defy essent-ialist demands, particularly during pivotal historical moments (Edelman 1998, 24).
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As the notion of difference and otherness became increasingly relevant to this thesis––adding perspective to my work–– so too did the realisation of our interconnectedness, that we are all made of the same bodies. Subsequently, I concluded that this research would likely become an ongoing, potentially lifelong process. Grappling with numerous questions I had endeavoured to tackle, I resolved to approach the matter with the understanding that I could no longer continue with the predetermined set of inquiries or objectives I had established; that, rather, the work requires an authentic and unprejudiced receptivity to the research and creation. As I pursued this methodology, I accepted that approaching the work in this way would not always culminate in resolution, for it is a process of becoming––that we are in a period of becoming––that we exist in a per-petual and cyclical period of aging, desubjectification, minority, and affects, with no knowable beginning or end. This evolution of thought allowed the inherent characteristics of the research and materials to exert influence on the artistic process.
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The concept of Haecceity, or “thisness,” as well as the Heideggerian notion of the “thingness of things” prompts an interrogation of the construction of knowledge and challenges the authority of archaeological power structures in naming, classifying, and [within Western contexts particularly] the potential for erasing histories. Meanings emerge from direct personal experiences and observations, encompassing affect, behaviour, cognitions, and the flow of time.
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Regrettably, contemporary societies often fail to acknowledge and appreciate time or our reciprocal relationships with the world, neglecting the importance of reflecting on natural elements, viewing them as insig-nificant or trivial. However, these elements are an essential part of the natural poetic processes of “thinking with,” as Eduardo Kohn describes in his work, How Forests Think: Toward an Anthropology Beyond the Human (Kohn, 2028: 20–21, 42, 81, 99–100, 186, 188, 222, 224, 226–227). By acknow-ledging these connections, we can develop a deeper relationship with the environment and cultivate a more profound ecological awareness.
“Unnamed Haecceity #1” reflects on the manner in which objects acquire meaning. With consideration for how processes such as reification, wherein life-world rituals and phenomenological issues [including intentionality, qualia, consciousness, and first-person perspective] contribute to the formation of meaning in our experiences, this project provides space to contemplate the significance of objects, memories, events, tools, and the impact of time on our lives.
Making art is really sort of––it's about doing. It’s not really about making things. And the thing must always just be what happens while you’re doing something interesting. The art can’t be the end––it can only be the residue of your activity. The activity must be what’s important.
“Becoming is a rhizome, not a classificatory or genea-logical tree. Becoming is certainly not imitating, or identifying with something; neither is it regressing-progressing; neither is it corresponding, establishing corresponding relations; neither is it producing, pro-ducing a filiation or producing through filiation” ––Deleuze & Guattari, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia, 1980/87: 239.
Evolution weaves countless metamorphoses. We embody intertwined histories, symbiotic connections, and a shared essence. We are a multitude of beings, converging, existing ~ in a constant state of flux ~ transitioning from what was to what is . . . between / no longer / and / not yet
. . . to be continued.