Performance, photography (2017) 

Because new homes feel like new beginnings, we believe that old memories and past mistakes can be forgotten in the walls, closets and secret places left behind. Despite new fixtures and hardwood floors we carry memories, feelings, and hopes as part of the new home’s foundation and structural integrity.

“This is where I would cook you dinner” visually demonstrates that despite the future-leaning of a new house, it always carries within it past lovers that cannot be left behind, present longings that cannot be articulated, and a future that cannot be anticipated. Past, present, and future love – exposed or not – leave an indelible mark on a seemingly content domestic future.

This action took place while I was alone in a house under construction. I wanted my actions to be found by the workers, forgotten as the construction process moved on, and then never seen by the owners. When I kissed the plywood and smeared away the outlines of my lips, the remnant looked similar to existent red spray paint. I was simply another construction material.

The kiss, then, serves as a possibility that will probably never occur as the location becomes a home but one that exists as part of its very skeleton.