we're wrapping the sticks in yarn now! it's all real! I am wanting it to be much cleaner looking, but I'm not sure what affect that will have. My mom more research to be done... I'm really clinging to this quote I found:
"A nest is not a home, at least not in the human sense. It’s used merely to hold the eggs and protect the young. The vast majority of nests are abandoned once the babies are old enough to leave." - Just from some nobody's wordpress page
How do we illustrate this transition, this emptiness and decay or repurposing in sculpture, or in words? I love this idea with regard to the ways my parents have changed and the way our structures of home, both artificial and emotional, have changed since I left for college. For instance, much of the furniture has moved elsewhere. Their whole room is a mirror of the way it used to be. It seems backwards to me, but it made them feel better after the separation. The fridge is full of different food now. The fireplace stays the same, but the general cleanliness of the room with the fireplace in it is so different that it makes me shiver sometimes. It isn't as lived in because there aren't as many people living in it. Or it isn't lived in the same way it was because certain people who lived in it a certain way don't live there that way anymore. My mom framed a picture of a large breasted, blue naked woman on the wall. She is covered in flowers. She bought in about a year ago. My sister hates the picture. She says, "why would anyone buy this for their house?" under her breath. She also calls my art pornographic. I try to take these comments on with many perspectives in mind. We never decided to be siblings or live in a house together. Not once ever. We don't live together now and we won't coexist like that ever again, but there is something dark, gut-funny, and powerful about those formative years we spent together sharing a sink, a shower, a secret, a kitchen, a history. Do the things we share connect us until death? Or is it the disagreement over the things that we want to understand, but kind of cannot? Do the memories connect us or do we remember different versions of the same days? I can already see the dissimilar, but reminiscence (or rejecting) experiments of home my siblings and I are creating now that we have moved out and on. What is our family now if not a group of relatives that live under one roof? How much freedom do we get to define our interactions? Do they just happen the way they will happen, programmed into our muscles since each of our first days?