Artist Statement
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My sculptural environments depict plants and animals that are reliant on the land and each other for survival. At different levels, distinct creatures and plant life take on their role as most important. The sculptures have no reference to human existence, presenting animal societies having their own system or organization and survival devoid of human contact. But my animal and plant worlds are not idyllic or free from conflict. They show struggle and tension between unlikely foes; conflicts that reflect accumulated and distorted memory rather than specific moments.
I have recently focused on ‘the politics of food’. By that I mean the way in which most people perceive food today, and the politics embedded in how food is manipulated, marketed and distributed. Watching the world stage of food production over the last few decades, I am convinced that people are less equipped than ever to make rational decisions about what they should be or are eating. Couple this with an abundance of misinformation, disease paranoia, distorted animal rights concerns and germ phobia; it is no wonder that food has become for some a confusing and abstract concept. That is why, as an avid gardener and former livestock raiser, it is fascinating to me that a growing number of people are re-discovering the relationship of working the soil to grow their own food and raising animals for their daily consumption.
I use clay and ceramic finishing techniques combined with wood to represent my animal and plant worlds. The choice makes metaphoric sense because of clay’s relationship to the earth from which plants and animals spring. In more practical terms, clay provides my forms an organic quality that serves well to represent ‘growing’ forms. The scale of my work can range from small, highly detailed sculpture to large and heavy feeling, relating directly to my agricultural life, where the small fascinations can be missed in a world where massive animals and large spaces dominate. The platforms and structures I have recently explored are reminders of my past growing up with livestock fairs and barn structures.
My most recent subjects spring from the book Good Breeding, a catalog of the Paris Livestock Show photographed by Yann Arthus-Bertrand. The close relationships seen on these pages between animal and owner/handler are obvious; their relationships are both charming and profound. In addition, my work has taken on structures such as stands, carts, and pens to display my animals, as well as mechanical devices related to my rural background.
The focus of my sculptures are animals and environments experienced during my years of rural life. I chose to depict creatures and habitats which are often overlooked by people not in direct contact with the land. My sculptures of earthworms churning the soil, stubborn beetles plugging along, or bare tree roots searching for nourishment, are not beautiful and romantic images of nature. Rather, they document the interaction, sometimes frantic or nonsensical, between smaller less glamorous species.
Dana Goodman
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My sculptural environments depict plants and animals that are reliant on the land and each other for survival. At different levels, distinct creatures and plant life take on their role as most important. The sculptures have no reference to human existence, presenting animal societies having their own system or organization and survival devoid of human contact. But my animal and plant worlds are not idyllic or free from conflict. They show struggle and tension between unlikely foes; conflicts that reflect accumulated and distorted memory rather than specific moments.
I have recently focused on ‘the politics of food’. By that I mean the way in which most people perceive food today, and the politics embedded in how food is manipulated, marketed and distributed. Watching the world stage of food production over the last few decades, I am convinced that people are less equipped than ever to make rational decisions about what they should be or are eating. Couple this with an abundance of misinformation, disease paranoia, distorted animal rights concerns and germ phobia; it is no wonder that food has become for some a confusing and abstract concept. That is why, as an avid gardener and former livestock raiser, it is fascinating to me that a growing number of people are re-discovering the relationship of working the soil to grow their own food and raising animals for their daily consumption.
I use clay and ceramic finishing techniques combined with wood to represent my animal and plant worlds. The choice makes metaphoric sense because of clay’s relationship to the earth from which plants and animals spring. In more practical terms, clay provides my forms an organic quality that serves well to represent ‘growing’ forms. The scale of my work can range from small, highly detailed sculpture to large and heavy feeling, relating directly to my agricultural life, where the small fascinations can be missed in a world where massive animals and large spaces dominate. The platforms and structures I have recently explored are reminders of my past growing up with livestock fairs and barn structures.
My most recent subjects spring from the book Good Breeding, a catalog of the Paris Livestock Show photographed by Yann Arthus-Bertrand. The close relationships seen on these pages between animal and owner/handler are obvious; their relationships are both charming and profound. In addition, my work has taken on structures such as stands, carts, and pens to display my animals, as well as mechanical devices related to my rural background.
The focus of my sculptures are animals and environments experienced during my years of rural life. I chose to depict creatures and habitats which are often overlooked by people not in direct contact with the land. My sculptures of earthworms churning the soil, stubborn beetles plugging along, or bare tree roots searching for nourishment, are not beautiful and romantic images of nature. Rather, they document the interaction, sometimes frantic or nonsensical, between smaller less glamorous species.
Dana Goodman