Do you know the feeling when you wake up in the morning and straight away get cut in half by the bathroom mirror?
I am interested in the unclear boundaries of our bodies, as they are felt. I deal with themes of embodiment and disembodiment as I explore the question of where do we exist in relation to the space and each other, and how do we extend ourselves to and inside other people, objects and environments.
My installations are collections of brushes-by, bumps, strokes, enmeshments and devourings, happening between the world and the body. They show a body that is being taken apart or putting itself together, a body that is bursting out of its boundaries, swallowing in, grafting, seeping, leaking, infecting, in-corporating, ex-carnating.
Each of my sculptures is a small fragment of a figure – whether it´s a trace, a representation or an extension of a body. Every object is imbued with an aliveness you can´t be sure of: like a tip of a shell-bone sticking out, wood with pink flesh inside, or skin made of milk. They are raw, vulnerable, threatening, misleading; a hammer leaning against a window, a fish tank with bulging walls, a fracture that can be peeled away.
I explore language that makes it possible for fruit to be bruised together and for jars to have lips, language that allows me to be beside myself and lets my skin crawl as it pleases. I employ bodily metaphors as a way to discover more about human perception and experience.
I look for humanity in worn-out places. I collect imperfections: what is overlooked, fragile, broken and worthless. I value objects for the layers of time they contain. Whether it´s soap, lenses from glasses, fingernails or bubblewrap, I rework these used domestic materials into precious unhomely objects. When they are displayed, they are left suspended in constant tension between unbearable closeness and the cool distance of an archaeology museum display.
What if I could preserve somebody´s looking? Store the time compressed in their steps? Pickle their dreams? I want to guide the viewer inside and across the labyrinth of fragments, and invite them to get uncomfortably close – to experience the body and the world as inherently contagious to each other.
© 2020 Stela Brix