I was born worn
not a girl and not a jewel
In the men’s locker rooms in the former East Bank Club – a space used and then abandoned, intended for leisure, sociability, vulnerability and regulation – I have been using objects and quiet edits to the architecture in attempts to draw out affects of desire and shame in a strictly gendered space. Using processes such as gardening, stitching and rug making, I insert objects whose belonging is suspect as consequence of their histories, but reparative in their effects. I drilled holes in the walls, flipped its floors, and relocated its parts, locating awareness at the site of fracture. Prepared with a cruel desire to pierce a space obstinate to my intentions and impervious to my actions, I found one that was much more vulnerable than I expected, and even as I tickled it, I watched its defenses disintegrate.
Taking the abject mother as an object and interlocutor, I make a space claiming its inhabiting subject as terrible and queer in its preoccupation with its fragmented condition.
metal, bandage tape, screws, rubber matts, acrylic yarn, grill grate, trap door, baby blanket, extension cords, clamp lamps, lights, soil from various locations in south bend, objects covered in soil, rose bushes, cedar plank walls, cuts in the walls, hinges, latex paint, foam shoulder pads, staples, relocated towel hooks, broken urinal, ceramic sink-stand, birdbath, flipped floor tiles, removed shower door, stains, flipped ceiling tiles, plastic shower caddies, concrete, plaster, mesh, cord, dried rose stem, dog toy cow trachea, terry cloth, baby blanket, sewing thread, sugar, nails, spilled iridescent pigment, acrylic, industrial paper towels, bleach, rubber tire tread
Hunter Foster is an artist living and working in Chicago, IL. He graduated in May from the School of the Art Institute of Chicago with a BFA in Fiber and Material Studies.