Karen Golland I present perfect continuous I plastic tube beading and pink chains I curated by Rilka Oakley I Occupied
Had I known that 2020 would send me freefalling through my past in such a dramatic way, I would have packed better (possibly healthier) snacks. Instead, in the quiet alone of Covid-19, I pulled together my entire collection of second-hand flame polished plastic tubing and created a work about crossing (or not crossing) thresholds. The work is a series of hand-beaded curtains, referencing doorways from rental properties I have called home. Hanging a cheap two-dollar shop beaded curtain was a domestic ritual of mine. It was the first thing I did when I moved into a new rental property and the last thing I took away—a tacky (yet delightful) way to signify I was home. The doorway is a portal, a place where you can slip from public space to private space, exterior world to interior world. If you're bewildered by a global pandemic and have a heightened imagination and an excellent soundtrack, it can also be where you cross from one dimension into another.
Covid-19 changed how we experience time in a similar way to how trauma or grief changes time. No longer ordered by familiar routine, we are left to make sense of our days in other ways. This work is a meditation on time, a gentle ordering and reordering of time. It is everything that has happened in my life up to this moment. It is my present perfect continuous.
Covid-19 changed how we experience time in a similar way to how trauma or grief changes time. No longer ordered by familiar routine, we are left to make sense of our days in other ways. This work is a meditation on time, a gentle ordering and reordering of time. It is everything that has happened in my life up to this moment. It is my present perfect continuous.
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