12/13/17
I need to go back to the beginning; where the initial idea for the series surfaced. The history of the fabric swatches. There in lies my seeking of adventure, my exploration of the spaces around me, my obsession with abandoned buildings and repurposing lost forgotten remnants of time.
These forms don’t exist elsewhere. They are unique shapes, made for a specific intended purpose – to be fabric samples. The factory where I found them was a long since forgotten building, charred by a fire and filled with memories of the areas prior industrial glory. Now left a broken reminder of businesses closing, jobs lost and the neighborhood lost in poverty and obscurity.
A nightmare turned reality. An economic passing of time. The old factory was filled with ghosts. Sound echoed across dead empty silence through the corridors. Even reclaiming this memory, I can’t help but feel a fear of memory – the traumatic reality of the past. Memories like ghosts, haunt me in my sleep.
Memories Are Ghosts That Haunt Me
Broken, left, discarded, lost, forgotten, charred, useless, burned, destroyed, scrapes
If there are no memories, there is nothing. But if there are memories of pain, there is no happiness. But there is no happiness without memories.
Suppressed/repressed memories
Everything comes from anger – everything starts with anger. And out of fear and desire for appraisal, it develops further. It eats air, it consumes space, it builds like mold – further infecting, further covering – cluttering. Exploring is all I had, it’s all I could do. I couldn’t go anywhere. I was stuck. I was trapped. I’m burdened with past pain in the form of memories.
Kal L. Cloonan 