The Transition Points

I am interested in the components of process work, both visually and conceptually.
 
The jotted notes, mess-ups, cross-outs, highlighted phrases, contact sheets, and the images that don't quite make it to the final frame.

This moment-by-moment record of working through or towards something intrigues me.

How do we make meaning from mistakes, revisions, daily occurrences, and encounters?

I love how a hard question (and the wrong answer) can cause you to change the way you think about something. I love when you end up in a completely different place in your work than you could have predicted. I love how one thing can inform the next. And I really love how you don’t see it until you connect those dots later on.

Where is that line or point that distinguishes the final outcome from the process work? When do we draw it? Should we always draw it?

Little did I know when I put what’s in frame one up on the critique wall last semester, it would lead me into my senior thesis. It’s hard to describe but at the time it felt like one of the least creative things I’ve done with my work. Looking back on it now, it turned out to be one of the most rewarding “mistakes” I’ve made. It was the start, or point A, of this journey.

I presented work that didn’t really have a direction. I was questioned. I didn’t fully understand. I doubted and contradicted myself. I was lucky to have professors and colleagues who encouraged and pushed me to continue exploring this. I found more questions than answers. No, I’m not there yet.

Out of all the components in this process, it was the questions that transitioned my work and pushed me further than I could have ever anticipated. The questions that I was asked, the questions I learned to ask, and the questions that arose along the way.

This idea of process work is physically represented through my frames. Each frame is an 18 x 24 x 6 box. Behind each composition on the foam core is a gearbox motor that is attached by a welding rod. The glass is frosted with Valspar frosting spray paint. As the foam core moves towards the glass, the process work becomes clear. As the foam core moves away from the glass, the process work cannot be seen. The movement within these frames question where that line between the process work and the final outcome is. It also represents those moments of blurriness, doubt, uncertainty, as well as the moments of clarity, understanding, and mini breakthroughs, while working towards something. Finally, the continuity of this movement suggests my love of the process. It is endless.

What I’ve learned, gained, and discovered throughout this entire process can never fully be summed up in this work, mainly because I’m not completely done. I hope I never will be.

I am interested in concealing all of this.

I am interested in revealing all of this.