|Caroline Joy Dahlberg||
She made artificial appendages
So the two bodies could reach one another
but when they touched their sides did not register
My objects have lumpy bodies. They are endearing and ham-fisted, soft and fleshy, and empathetically pathetic. Their textures have the quality of something wet and internal. Emphasizing the skin that holds in organs that holds in liquid. Our social selves hold together the understanding of our embodied selves like a metaphoric skin. The areas where it fits awkwardly calls attention to the fact that our physical selves are consistently in flux. Falling apart and back together, with tension that works its way in and out. We catch ourselves in the act of becoming, act of decomposing, feeling several levels of containment shifting. Struggling to catch pieces before they can fall out. With this lack of structure, intimacy becomes a comfort. Dissolving the barriers set up by the social skin, we can imagine ourselves entangled with other bodies and landscapes. Using visceral materials and kinaesthetic engagement, my work is asking for closeness separated by a thin membrane. My recent work has used writing to frame metaphors of molecular intimacy, describing how bodily and environmental materials merge together, losing themselves in one another. It is comfort and terror, simultaneous closeness and loss.