To be able to integrate the pig into my little robot community (Robotopia), I figured she should get a rider. This is the first time making joints that are adjustable.
This one is called ‘the slave’ because of the purpose behind creating it. The piece will be part of a larger installation about our relationship to technology and the question of who is serving who in the end. Stay tuned for that.
On his own, without the head gear, I considered calling him ‘the meditator’ because of his serene expression, but as we are all to different degrees slave to our impulses and desires, and as the meditation I practice is in large part a struggle to reduce their power, I decided ‘the slave’ remains apt as a title.
The antlers are from an old, broken hunting trophy that came with a wagon we acquired.
To be killed for sport and then used as wall decoration and a symbol of the recreational hunter’s prowess is an old cultural phenomenon that has lost it’s shine with the growing cultural recognition of humanity’s devastating impact on the natural world.
I used my own face as a reference.
I was reflecting on my own mortality, thinking about what are ridiculous and pointless ways to die.
The cyborg as a representation of the ever increasing intertwining of life/biology with technology in our civilization.
While I was creating this piece, I also happened to read the novel ‘War Girls’ by Tochi Onyebuchi, which sets the Biafran Nigerian civil war in a future where the children and women who end up as fighters, get repaired and upgraded with advanced robotic technology, escalating as the war does.
It speaks to what war does to people and what they end up willing to sacrifice. A bit of synchronicity in coming across and reading this book while in the process of making this sculpture.
I learned to weld when I was a teenager. The purpose was always mechanical. I never considered using it for making art, at least not before I saw Patrice Hubert give a live workshop at a festival where his artwork was exhibited.
As I stood there watching I realized his most basic way of working was within my skillset. With the feeling of “I could do that” a seed was planted.
Obviously I have no desire to imitate, and will always strike my own path, but I do feel honorbound to recognize him and his work as a source of inspiration.
To see some of my contributions to the place that facilitated the development of a lot of my skills, and where I lived as a resident artist for a number of years