GLOVES IN A STORM DRAIN
CURATED BY WHITEFOX
12.3.21 - 1.8.22 [closed 12.22.21-1.1.22
Opening Reception: Friday, December 3, 6-9 PM
Early in 2020, I came across a storm drain littered with blue nitrile gloves. Someone had emptied at least six, full boxes of them right there, under the Do Not Litter sign. The drain led straight to a protected, local creek. This was during the first wave of quarantine, so gloves and masks were scarce and not cheap. Why were they there? Were they callously discarded after use, or were they new and accidentally wasted? When I saw the gloves, I had the urge to get out of the van, gather them up, and dispose of them correctly. But I was quickly overcome by the new horror we were all learning, a heightened sense of germaphobia about getting close to anything strange and unknown without wearing the protection of gloves, masks, etc., myself.
Every time I think back on my experiences during the quarantine, this is where I start, these mixed feelings of responsibility and fear, which affected me and many other people artistically. For me, it was a time full of exploration into new territory, working with macrame, living plants, and plastic beaded jewelry; but it was also a time for introspection into past difficulties and traumas I had been ignoring during the hustle of pre-COVID life. During this social stasis, artistically I was moving. My friends were taking advantage of this time as well.
Gloves In a Storm Drain is a shrine to hardships we as artists have survived during the wildest time of our generation. We are now able to translate these experiences. Whether it was due to the pandemic or sociopolitical sicknesses, we have all lost something; and in this shrine, we give our respects, our accounts, our new tricks, and our old.
Welcome back and enjoy.