grit, teeth, noise, synesthesia.

It's a little embarrassing to admit that those are indeed my own teeth. But it's a pretty cool image, no?


I've decided to tackle a subject that makes me very uncomfortable, so as to gain some perspective on my insecurities that involve the social politics of dental cosmetics. Teeth have been a very interesting subject to me for quite some time. They are gross, they are necessary, they are fascinating, they lack sense and yet can be the cause of so much pain. An animal's habit of showing and gritting one's teeth is a naturally threatening signal, while humans flash their teeth with a friendly smile.

Teeth are defensive, yet vulnerable.
Teeth contain a unique topography to each individual (by this I'm referring to the use of dental records as a means of identifying a body, for example)-- Fingerprints are like the map, where teeth are the terrain.
I could go on and on and on as to why I find the subject of teeth so damn fascinating. There are so many cultural hang-ups that surround teeth: "dental culture", is perhaps the proper nomenclature? Grills, gold caps, obsessive bleaching... There is a status symbol in dental hygiene. There is judgment in its neglect.

These questions that involve defining subject, object and relevance seem to find some answer in these portraits. This certainly isn't a final product, but only a documentation of the process. I'm interested in the initial draw to the image, the repulsion, the comprehension that the image of these teeth in fact belong to someone one might know, and perhaps the guilt that follows. I know it's not there yet, I know it's not nearly as dramatic, but I'm getting there...

I find that I have a much more passionate and energetic response to music these days (as has always been the case, really). I will go out of my way to see a concert before an art opening-- always. I spend so much money on shows. I crawled out of my sick-bed and walked 15 blocks to see Corin Tucker. Granted much of it has to do with atmosphere, social gathering, and alcohol, but the immersive quality of an aural experience can be so utterly captivating and powerful. I find I am extremely drawn to the droning, endless, wall-of-sound-- the feeling of timelessness in a sea of pure noise-- the anti-song. Reality is suspended in the feedback solo or the perfect percussion of a seemingly eternal drum beat. I feel there. I feel here. I feel everywhere. I fucking feel. It's quasi-religious; Michael Gira (Swans) was- for a moment- godlike. You can relate-- I know you can.

Okay, where am I going with this. I have recently become enamored with the idea of finding a visual equivalent to rock and roll. I haven't entirely scrapped my hyper-minimalist, Formal questions of pattern yet (yes, I'm still in love with equilateral triangles), but I think that's merely a single unit to a multifaceted structure I have yet to conceive and construct. Rock and roll is so much about the front man, isn't it? It's so much about persona as much as it is about the noise. Subject/object relationships! Is that what I'm still talking about?!

I'm frustrated with the fact that I suddenly started making pretty things. It's like listening to... Jewel, for example. I'm revolting against my own inclinations towards beauty and elegance. I need some tooth in my life and work (pun entirely intended).

If you follow my studio practice in any way, you already know where these teeth are going. I am excited to say that things have been pretty successful on the making-end, as of late. I'm still asking a lot of questions about my work. I still have a difficult time articulating my interests in relation to my work because they range from (as stated above) rock and roll, to Buckminster Fuller, to material translation, to landscape, to architecture to et cetera, et cetera. And then to relate it back to ceramics and craft? (those are honestly the least of my concerns anymore). In any case, I can confidently say that I am back in production, and the only way to find answers to these questions is to continue making. I am indeed constantly vacillating between thinking and making, but I suppose it's a good thing...

On the next episode:
SEEKING THE VISUAL ANALOG TO ROCK AND ROLL.