Pass(ing)


2019. Experimental xerograph monoprint and intaglio installation. Carpenter Center for the Visual Arts, Harvard University.



What is the texture of the moment between life and death, of passing? Perhaps, in the words of Elizabeth Bishop, “It may be solid, it may be hollow.” This installation-- made from objects left behind in my grandmother’s apartment after her death-- is a haptic engagement with ghosts, memory, trauma, and the in-between. 

Ghosts are inherent to printmaking: there exists a “ghost print”, in which an inked plate is repeatedly printed. Gripping onto the memory of my grandmother through objects, I worked to create a space of ghostly apparition through my fabric hangings. I created semi ghost prints with my fabric, folding it over twice through the press, allowing for ghost impressions to be made on either side of the fabric. Further, I used the photocopier as a way to break through the idea of a monotype. Perhaps as a way to stay in the in-between, to activate the ing in passing, during this process, I made xerographs of the fabric itself, creating a frottage of a frottage. In creating my own etchings for this project, I was concerned with creating crisp and more legible spaces of memory. I meditated on memories I hold of my grandmother, and strove to shape them into scenes for small etchings, which I then placed around the fabric in the final exhibition. This project used printmaking to render interior exterior, to build a monument to a powerful woman, to investigate my own memory and grief. It honored an ending—paradoxically through printmaking’s tool of the matrix, the womb, which exists as the beginning.In the generative space of the print studio, through intaglio, etching, and frottage, I strove to create space marking this: a ghostly apparition, a personal monument. A space for passing.


“The monument's an object, yet those decorations,
carelessly nailed, looking like nothing at all,
give it away as having life, and wishing;
wanting to be a monument, to cherish something.
The crudest scroll-work says "commemorate,"
while once each day the light goes around it
like a prowling animal,
or the rain falls on it, or the
wind blows into it.
It may be solid, may be hollow.
The bones of the artist-prince may be inside
or far away on even drier soil.
But roughly but adequately it can shelter
what is within (which after all
cannot have been inte
It is the beginning of a painting,
a piece of sculpture, or poem, or monument,
and all of wood. Watch it closely.”  - Elizabeth Bishop