© 2017

a branch that goes nowhere
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Untitled (bone field)
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Plastic Animism
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Untitled
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Three Elements (wind drawing)
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Untitled
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Iridescent Meteorite
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Untitled (gather)
Archival Pigment Print 2017

Burn Piles Trash
Gobi Desert, 2017


Burn Piles Trash is a series of 13 photographs created in the Gobi Desert in Mongolia. The photographs consist of constructed scenes using found objects in the sand dunes. Bones, trash and dried plants are illuminated by a single flash, throwing elongated shadows across ripples of sand. Referencing death, globalization and waste through the use of materials (animal bones and found trash from discarded consumer products), the photographs construct scenes which allude to ritual by placing otherwise forgotten objects into a state of hyper-significance. By building altars out of our discarded waste, the work constructs a mythology of plastic animism in a surreal landscape that, although not manipulated except through the use of a flash, is made to look artificial.

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multicoloured ephemeral psychopiles
of evolving greens, blues, yellows
shards of glass and rusted metal tangled in dried thorns and bramble
lumps of sandy roots sporadically heave the dirt up
revealing black dots
like an exploded meteor raining down on the wasted ground

The long open plains rise up to the dunes with tufted grass piles revealing small treasures of trash - flashes of green waving in the wind, a bleached rib bone poking out of a withered bush. A few paces more and a skulls sits perched at the base of the first rolling mound of the dunes. One horn is missing, mysteriously hinting at some past event, alive then dead. Fragments of discarded objects: plastic, metal, rubber, lay strewn across the open plain, some gathered, collected by insistent desert winds, at the edge of the sand. Out here, the silence is powerful, filling the air with a dense heaviness. We are at the edge of a dying system, negotiating costs as the trash flies around us, scribbling on a piece of paper in an obscure attempt to regain control inside the intensity of the landscape - our bodies small and weak in the clouds of driving sand.

We are alone with our thoughts, standing on a surreal plain reminiscent of long dead CG images. Caught behind fake walls, 8-bit dunes and objects flicker to life, drenched with artificial light from the shot of a flash: pop, pop, pop. Pixelated gradients slide across the screen. I place a branch on the ridge; its shadow slips over the granulated ripples and dissolves into nothing. Plastic pearls become treasures freed from a shattered meteorite in this wasteland of the dunes.