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i laid my ghost at my mother's feet and she wept
steel, satin, thread
27" x 14" x 5"
by Rory Brabham
Through the de/recontextualization of found objects, personal possessions, and heirlooms, my work seeks to de/reconstruct the home that normativity fruitlessly offers. By exploiting and transforming the absurdities of tradition and aesthetics of southern domesticity, I seek to interrogate and subvert relationships between gender, labor, and their material subtexts. My sculptural practice is a grappling with my inheritance - exposing, bastardizing, and refuting the boundaries of what is permissible within hegemonic constructions of family, home, religion, and identity. I perform rites of trans-gression with components (both fabricated and found) of the nuclear home by stripping them of their associations, reconfiguring and redeploying them as collections of unsettled, disembodied parts to be suspended and displayed in all their artifice. The conjured atmospheres are at once familiar and unnerving, inviting one into the home so that its underlying structures might be revealed.
i laid my ghost at my mother's feet and she wept
steel, satin, thread
27" x 14" x 5"
by Rory Brabham
Through the de/recontextualization of found objects, personal possessions, and heirlooms, my work seeks to de/reconstruct the home that normativity fruitlessly offers. By exploiting and transforming the absurdities of tradition and aesthetics of southern domesticity, I seek to interrogate and subvert relationships between gender, labor, and their material subtexts. My sculptural practice is a grappling with my inheritance - exposing, bastardizing, and refuting the boundaries of what is permissible within hegemonic constructions of family, home, religion, and identity. I perform rites of trans-gression with components (both fabricated and found) of the nuclear home by stripping them of their associations, reconfiguring and redeploying them as collections of unsettled, disembodied parts to be suspended and displayed in all their artifice. The conjured atmospheres are at once familiar and unnerving, inviting one into the home so that its underlying structures might be revealed.