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Everyone knows it to be true-- that we grow up and start unconsciously exhibiting the same behaviors and bodies as our parents. I think about this a lot with this project I'm working on right now, because it was during and after grad school that my parents started raising me, and for the first time I feel like I can put my experience into a different perspective.
The drawings I'm working on are object-based, but hardly nostalgic. I'm drawing objects that conjure stories of how I learned about the feeling of disappointment when I was small-- how I disappointed my parents, how they disappointed me, how we were disappointed by our circumstances of being overworked and tired in urban/suburban New Jersey. And I think these moments have shaped me monumentally. When something disappoints me, sometimes I get terse, tight-lipped and stonily silent like my mother and other times I sputter and explode, wide-eyed like my father. I don't think it is any coincidence that I started stealing things when I was 4 or 5 years old (I remember the first, a small glass bear from the elderly mother of one of my dad's friends, the second, a toy from Danny Meagher's house) around the same time my brother, Will, was born and when it started mattering that our family didn't have any money.
Of course, when I look at pictures of when I was small I can see both things-- our desperation and our aspiration. I like this picture because their family-ness is undeniable, but knowing how different my brothers and I are, I like to question all of the potential pursuits these people faced once they left their red-headed home. I think I might start redistributing my photo collection or my own family photos back into thrift stores with stories (maybe fictional, maybe not) written on the backs.
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