Writing
I write visual poetry, often blending my love of exploring text with my passions for black and white illustration. Through these works, I am continually pushing my own creative boundaries, pressing on the questions of how language and art exist together and where tiny fissures of meaning appear in the spaces between the marks we make every day on the page and screen.
Where can you see my work?
My work has also appeared in the following literary journals:
filling Station (Issue 78)
Room (Issue 45.2)
Algorithm Series: Artist Statement
The Algorithm Series explores themes of human engagement with technology and the complexities of engaging with virtual content that is continuously curated by mathematical forces. Every day we input intimate details of ourselves into these calculations, sharing what we like, what we’re afraid of, what we don’t understand and what we secretly desire. We don’t even have to explicitly articulate these things because our taps, gestures and hesitations do it for us. The spaces between our decisions and actions build such an uncanny profile of who we are that we are then surprised by how much we begin to recognize ourselves in what is shared back.
The Algorithm poems draw on the tiny moments of recognition we experience every day as we both build and react to the pattern of who we are as digital beings. At times, we may welcome this recognition and even be relieved by it (Yes, that is exactly what I was looking for!). At times, we may be horrified by what is curated into our view (How does an algorithm know I have small breasts?). As we engage, what is pushed into or held away from our view will shape us and our actions. We are in constant conversation with these algorithmic forces, which are in turn the mathematical abstractions of the dreams, desires, judgments, assumptions, biases and fears they are designed to outrun.
Each Algorithm poem traces the mathematical circle back to its origin: our own consciousness (and unconscious) and the ways through which we seek to understand ourselves. The poems stretch beyond written language, pulling in hand-drawn lines, images, and patterns, to help represent what is unspeakable in this dialogue. If pure, mathematical abstraction leads back to the tissue of the body, to our hopes and hungers, our angers and our anxieties, what can we learn about ourselves through our own patterns? And in learning about ourselves, what do we then feed back into this collective tabulation of our humanity?