hand-formed plastic, 2021
These objects were hand formed from a fast-curing liquid resin whose becoming was highly toxic to my body and the bodies that surrounded me. I worked in constant fear of the material finding its way on my skin, onto the ground or into the water. Making plastics means surrounding yourself and others with plastic, to contain it within itself.
Plastic’s value is primarily found in relation to other matter, a membrane securing the realization of the others around it. Becoming other things or replacing them, keeping things out or keeping things in, being disposable so other things can live just a little longer. The objects I made objects seemed to relate only to me and my body. Even for a material whose value can be realized in only a single use, these objects were useless. Errors, mistakes, glitches.
I could not help but feel implicated by them, entangled with them and their long future and complex past. What were the terms of this relationship I had entered into? And what did it say about the hundreds of other plastic objects I encountered that day?