Dianne SmithRemix Repurpose

Studio Documentation & Critique Group 1/4

I have been documenting my process. This is particularly significant because I do not usually work in this way. Along with the images in this presentation are excerpts containing some of my thoughts as it pertains to the work. This process has aloud me to uncover things about myself which I am still examining. The following images are of a few of the pieces I have been working on since Berlin. I am investigating the use of different types of materials, from my kitchen spices to dirt left in an old plant pot. Some of the pieces shown are works in progress.

In the Studio

Some materials I use: rope , burlap, cloth, clothing, cinnamon sticks, belts, string, deconstructed basket.

This piece is made with belts that were sitting in my closet. I realized that I had been holding on to them secretly reliving my past. See when I wore these I was but a mere size 4. Today I am a 12.

White T-shirts, dinner napkins, and a tiny piece of African fabric. What do these things have in common? All my stuff knotted and looped.

I used to wonder why it would take me so long to rid myself of things. Now I know, objects have memory. I would wear my golden yellow zip up jacket, you see, it was my favorite, it brought such joy and comfort. So did my long sleeve blue Tee... What does this say about me?

Cardboard, dirt, gesso, graphite, reused wood panel, paprika, and other spices were my choices. Choice is an interesting thing. Those of us who can do it freely often take it for granted. As I was working on this piece I kept questioning my choices. Suddenly it occurred to me, it was simply because I could. it started me thinking about the countless women around the world who are not as fortunate. They are unable to make any choices simply because they could!

A knot here, a twist there, and a loop... It wasn’t long before it started coming back to me. When I was a little girl spending Summers’s in Belize my Aunt Louise taught me how to weave, the women in my family were weavers. We would sit on the veranda weaving baskets and bags. I want this memory to bring back more joy than it does. It always felt like weaving was a punishment not a gift. However, I am grateful for knowing that little bit of my family history and the memory.

Boxes, boxes, boxes everywhere. I couldn’t bring myself to throw them out. So, that decision started me thinking. What do people do with used boxes? What have I noticed in the city, in my travels? Some of us make art, some may use them to pack and move and others out of necessity, they need them for shelter.

More cardboard boxes...

Garbage, trash, stuff: Why do I have so much? It seems no matter how I try I always end up with a whole lot of waste. I am assembling this piece one throwaway at a time. My concern is that I do not pack my space with so much waste that it becomes a problem!