Somewhere along the way I learned that some parts of me were better off invisible. Better not to draw attention, because that was the safe thing. So putting something I made on a wall is a deeply vulnerable act.
What is art? How do we decide what deserves to hang on a wall, to be looked at and appreciated by others? There are many paths, but they all start in the same place: the belief that something deserves to be seen. The belief that what we make deserves to take up space.
How do you get there, to that belief? I got there after imagining futures in which I saw myself making experiences in the shape of an exhibition. So when the open call for "The spectrum we inhabit" came out, I thought: what if I take that first step?
It was a rush. A "what have I got to lose?" But also a belief: that the photos I chose are beautiful, that the concept holds together, and above all that they deserve the space.
So this is me, showing myself on a wall for the first time. For most people who walk by it probably won't mean much. Some will give it a few seconds, others not even that. But for me it means a leap into a new identity, into that version of myself, and the beginning of admitting that there is an artist in here who can reach people and connect through what they make.
I should say that most of these I don't go looking for. They find me. Walking down the street they appear, they speak to me, and sometimes I stop and pay attention.
