Catalog Entry from If These Walls Could Talk Exhibit, Neill-Cochran House 2020:

Apollo & Daphne:

For the NCHM exhibition, I separated out some parts of previous ensembles of porcelain. This statue comes from Chlora’s Hope Chest, an early story when Chlora assembles a Bernini-like sculpture out of a Barbie and Ken after they have fallen in the mud. Then she spray paints it white. Note the stiff limbs of the Mattel dolls in my rendition. Apollo was the Greek/Roman god of art, poetry, and music, among other things. He had a passion for the river nymph Daphne, who rejected him. Apollo chased her down and rather than submit, she turned herself into a laurel tree (note her hands sprouting leaves, her legs encased in bark). This is clearly taken from Bernini’s sculpture of 1622-25, an astonishing tour de force in marble. It is the race between lust and chastity, predator and prey. At a glance, it appears to belong in a room like this, along with the porcelain figurines.

Art Supplies:

Alongside Chlora’s Book Satchel, I have installed a few school supplies taken out of an older sculpture called Chlora’s Hope Chest. The ensemble, on a ladies’ vanity table, suggests that Chlora is more interested in art than in cosmetics. In college I painted a large realistic rendition of Crayola Crayons. I had played with commercial products and logos before, just because I liked the direct specificity they lend. Logos and product design are such a common part of our everyday world; generic brands just don’t carry the same weight. Long ago I was advised that my artistic interpretations of trademarked products is not in violation of any law. Someone might offer an argument there, but my renditions are never accurate reproductions. This 2005 box was one of the first truly trompe l’oeil objects I made; it was compact and easy to carry, so I often took it when I was asked to give talks about my art. Right away, I learned it was just fine in a carry-on, but its cousin, the box cutter, was not welcome in airport security situations.