"In episode four of season two, Donna Clark, a main protagonist of the AMC television series Halt and Catch Fire, explains to her business partner Cameron Howe that being able to communicate online allows people to be “more authentic…than in real life.” Of course, these characters were anticipating the digital revolution of social media. In some ways, this thought encapsulates the zeitgeist of our current moment—people prefer to communicate via text and other online platforms, not realizing there is a whole world out there of face to face interaction. Enter the practice of Margaret Flanigan. Operating within systems of information she removes fragments of text from digital platforms and places them within the confines of the art world. Flanigan jolts the viewer’s awareness of meaning and context. Suddenly, racy phrases like “I want to suck all of your things,” the begging and viral nature of “But Please?,” or the long-winded “Hey so I am really sorry about this but I can’t get coffee, I’m just not in a place to do that right now…” are heightened in a gallery setting. As viewers, we might recognize hints of our own text messages both sent and received, but seeing and reading them in a sterile environment and a very public place might cause either nausea or laughter on our part, depending on the phrase being read. Add to this the fact that Flanigan has chosen soft-sculpture like pillows (a sly contemporizing of Oldenburg’s signature medium) tactile soft-cover books, reminiscent of those we might have had as children, audio, and projection, among other formats, as the vehicle with which to display remnants of these “conversations.” The bombardment of media is meant to destabilize the viewer, and is perhaps also meant as a cautionary tale. After all, one’s digital presence and manufactured identity are hardly erasable." -Erin Riley Lopez
Constructed prose from documented conversation.
I am the consequence of someone else. The honest
memories I have of us; the ones not documented almost hurt
to remember. I was never very good at change anyway. I miss
you. You live upstairs.
Here Lies the Eye but where is the iris?
A portrait of time passing,
the distance is imprinted here,
pointing to the shadow of what had been.
Here lie traces where the reach became the connection.
Through the lens of a broken toy camera,
the act of pressing the shutter,
the click open of the iris and
the light attaching itself to the film
captured more than the images produced.
The exposure mattered
but the moment doesn't anymore.
Somehow we're always working towards losing someone.
Growing up in Watauga County, I've had a close relationship with the New River. It wasn’t until I was much older that I realized what an incredible resources was flowing through my back yard.
I spent summers tubing with friends, fishing with my dad, and jumping off waterfalls without knowing the history that was passing by.
The people along the New River have become a source of fascination. I'm meeting my unknown family as I gather the stories about personal connections to the place I call home.
New River is an ongoing collaboration with artist Joshua White.
Footnotes is a typological study of the people from my past. I view these people in two ways: first, as a molecular map; if one piece was missing or a new piece was added the whole would become something entirely new. Second, as the footnotes in a story; when the content of a book doesn’t make sense, there is a reference that will lead you to a better understanding. These people are my molecules, my footnotes and my self-portrait.
