MUSEUM IN WATER
Photographs on canvas, found threads, wood frame
9 ft x 2.4 ft each
My photographs are a multi-perspectival form of looking. They are a means to both de-centralize my gaze, the power structures within which I move, whether art world broadly speaking, or other. The glitches, black surfaces of digital non-computes, become places of opportunity, and the blurry bits are sites of change. The strings that puncture through with a sewing needle are my image energy. Equally composed of chance, intuition, collaboration and a computational back and forth, the painterly installation is, for me, an extension of a contemplative exercise on the collective we.
My spoken text at the opening, September 18, 2025:
“MUSEUM IN WATER is an assembly of about 20 planned photographs and their threads: picture glitches, twisted stairs, strings reaching down into the earth. They progress toward loving the museum (again).
During this residency Deanna Armenti introduced me to Notebook on TEXTILE PUNCTUM: embroidery of memory (2005), by Wronsov, who describes how a drop of red wine on their shirt at a party turned into a punctum. In an instant, their relationship to people, the space and everything around them had changed because of the stain on their shirt. Embroidering and memorializing their stain invited, amongst other things, a new form of seeing oneself in relation to others and other things, space and time. Wronsov’s reframing of Roland Barthes’s photo punctum into an eventing space became a way for me to think about the museum in its entirety as a stain.
If the museum is my fourth space made from images of Mel Lastman Square and the AGO’s Walker Court, and of metaphors of darkness, sewers and swampy waters inspired by Walter Benjamin’s posthumous Arcades Project (1982), a museum in water/MUSEUM IN WATER roots these stories and their entanglements with my own work in the museum here now.”
Breaststroke
Nights swim into sky
collecting suns:
an admiral
and a pantaloon
as if, the suns would cede them
to touch
between surface and void
a pleasant time
for these swimmers
our diatribe (or school)
against competitive stroke
melts away
We have joined instead the ancient
Society for the Recovery of Persons
Apparently Drowned
where optimism has no heat
or cold.
It just is.”




