Food for thought:HAH!Hmmm...What I saw
By now:i've come to realize how loaded the idea i have conjured has become. i intended to construct a skirt, based off of the tell-tale fashion of princesses, the belle dress, with the giant skirt and the tiny waist. i wanted myself to be a damsel in distress, a girl stuck up in a tower, far above, protected, quiet, bored--trapped up inside a wooden scaffolding. Her legs would dangle, helplessly, and ironically unprotected beneath the billows as the public walked beneath.
What I've come to realize is that the damsel is a generic model. There is nothing wrong with addressing the fairy tale that hope has handed us. The fairy tale princess with the golden locks and the gentle demeanor and the roles which are subsequently assumed are images which I feel ought to be challenged--perhaps obliterated from the minds of the Disney-raised masses. But i am beginning to wonder about my place in all of this.
My face has been a cause for much confusion in my life, and perhaps for those around me as well. I was raised by a white family in an American home. My last name is Barrett. So many might say, 'well who cares?'--but the fact of the matter is that there are still some that do--including perhaps myself. 'Flatface', 'frying pan face', 'fake asian', 'whitewash', 'twinkie'--it's not the seven-year-old mentality which rocks me so much as perhaps the questions that are raised wondering where you belong. It's not an instance of hypersensitivity, nor is it a feeling of gratifying originality. There is the idea of a global brain, that we coexist as creatures of nature, if only to strive to continue to be a part of this global collective, a worldwide mentality--a home. I know where my home is; i know where my family is in northern nj. But the fact remains that i am not your expected cinderella, your princess aurora, nor your belle of the ball. There is contradiction in my step, in my name, my clothes, my face. I have heard it from the mouths and felt it in the eyes on both sides of the fence. We are a visual culture and we are now speaking in a visual language. It's important that we see how it can work.
The damsel is not all lost on me, however. I've begun to perceive another sort of lady in distress. There seems to be some crazy notion that Asian women are submissive, obedient, dependent, vulnerable, soft-spoken, weak, etc. (go ahead, laugh, it's funny.) They all look exactly the same, and are therefore interchangeable.
Very interesting.
I'm not your little china doll, although I may suspiciously look the part. Falling away from my face, you may find that i look nothing of the sort. This suit has become a rather personal endeavor. The Asian aesthetic has become more significant to the suit's construction, particularly the bodice. I am choosing to focus on the exterior, rather than both the inner and the outer. Enough information is revealed out here. You're going to have to face the reality of it as it is before you're allowed inside.
Thus far:ladder
wire frame/mesh/chicken wire
fabric/cloth - parachute green/black/white lining
toule
patterned
scarves
old clothes
white sheet
aluminum
plastic wrap
plastic/garbage bags
paper
beads
bottlecaps
pills
purse contents
wires
cigarettes
books
boos
shoes
apple
keys
bottles
trash
wallet/contents
mail
jewelry
film
headphones
music/ electronics
photos
files
korean ornaments
sequins
...i guess everything i own.
Current Hour Awake: 39th
Current Music: Dovotcha - this will end
Current Thought: "holy shit i have a lot to do."
I have decided after much contemplation to suspend myself by a cable from the beam in the gallery rather than fight to have 10 10' 2x4s delivered here by 18 Lumber or risk denting the roof of someone's (like reid's) car which they so generously have offered for me since this week has turned me psychotic--and not in a fun psycho way but in a sad mad blehghrargh psycho way. 
manderinorange
nonsenzical ramblings
mason gross school of the arts [college]
elsewhere artist collaborative [internship]
stellafly[deviant]
