I had just come from Geology class where we had been learning about meandering streams and oxbow lakes. Entering the studio, I began to unravel my knotted rope that I had been working on all semester long, and started to experiment with patterns and designs on the critique room floor.
It was looking pretty good on the floor, but I was looking for somewhere a little more permanent to install my work. That's when my professor came in and said he thought he might know the perfect place for this piece.
"You can have this hall" He said.
"All of it?!!!" I had to double-check, I was certain he would change his mind.
"Yes, Aimee. All of it. "
After getting the green light, I immediately jumped into my largest-scale sculptural installation of all time.
The process of turning my two-dimensional drawings into a three-dimensional sculptural installation took the entire semester, it was exciting to work on a piece that kept growing and growing.
Eventually, the knotted fabric rope I created swirled and twirled down the entire hallway. It was a great experience - during the many hours working on my wall, I was able to interact with a vast array of different people - in a way, this work was a performance art piece, because I wasn't working in the studio, I was out in public, creating the installation in real-time, and that was intriguing for a lot of people. It turned into an interactive piece too, after my second day on the wall, I put up my e-mail information alongside the work in progress. I received e-mails asking me about the piece and expressing their gratitude for some color on what otherwise would have been another humdrum wall.
The number of staples in the wall had reached over 10,000.
3 staple guns had bitten the dust by the time this sculpture was finished.
To finish the wall, it was necessary to staple my name into it. The hardest part of this sculpture for me was saying it was "finished." There was still more that I wanted to do, but I didn't want to overwhelm the viewer with too much, while on the other hand, I didn't want to bore them and have them think it was too little or that it was boring. To make sure I avoided boring my audience, I researched patterns. I became interested in Victorian wallpaper and the artist Polly Apfelbaum. I resonated with Ms. Apfelbaum's bright installations, because we share a love for saturated colors and large-scale installations. Back when I was a freshman in college, one of my art professors told me that I have a "raucous use of color" and that has definitely continued to be true.
And then, it was finished. The work had a beginning, and an end. I wasn't ready to be done. It took me a while to get over the fact that I wouldn't need to bring my staple gun to class anymore, that I wouldn't be carrying around scraps of fabric to tie into knots. I didn't have the need to carry a lint roller around in my backpack anymore. All of the pieces to this artistic puzzle had been put in their proper place. The process brought me such an incredible joy. I was amazed at the staggering number of chance encounters and serendipitous conversations with others that took place while I was working. I also learned a lot about myself, about what sort of art makes my heart sing. This project was a wonderful gift that might never have happened if it weren't for my Geology class or for my professor's permission to take up so much space.
