This piece works is under the same principles as the framed photograph of the scarves and the aprons (A PORTRAIT OF A PORTRAIT ) . The one key difference is that the objects that are behind the images are not the ones represented in the photograph. This work also uses the idea of The Treachery of Images (This is Not a Pipe) (La trahison des images [Ceci n'est pas une pipe]) by Rene Magritte. The 3 photographs are the byproduct of the earlier piece. A piece which soured for me. In these new pieces, I have placed objects that are weighted and dear to me. It is in this way that, when I look at the photographs, I am no longer looking at the images of the aprons, but, at the things behind them. The things that bring me a quiet and curtain joy. I am hoping that in time, just like Pavlov's dog, I will once again salivate at the sound of the bell, and the aprons will become beautiful again.
This piece records a moment in time. A walk from my bed to the bus stop. It is a portrait of a menial task, something which I do nearly every day. The original idea was created around 1977, in high school. I used to roam the school halls and imagine a red thread attached to my ankle. It followed me through out the building in long, yet invisible red loops that would cross, and tangle with other students red threads during the bell, then back to my single red thread, as I was constantly maneuvering hallways, instead of attending classes. Initially, the idea of the conceptual red thread started from the moment I walked into the building. In time, I would back up to the place of origin to the morning walk from my house. Then, farther back to the house I lived in before that house. Further and further back in time, until ultimately, from my mothers womb.
By beading the thread I am exhaling the task, and that moment in time to it's most poetic level. The thread is a simple poly blend and the beads are made of glass, pearls, sequins and some plastic. It was made in only two places; the bus, and on my bed. Though it appears precious, light, and easy, the work was tedious and grueling. The Tupperware bowl in which the beads were kept were refilled 5 different times, giving the strand a subtle variation throughout, as if I had given the strand it's own time line, a life line of it's own.
