4/20/2026
This week marked the commitment and refinement in my site-specific process, as I officially chose to move forward with my installation in the Mel Cox Dance Studio. While at first glance this concept might not immediately read as “site-specific,” I’ve come to better understand and articulate why it absolutely is. On this campus, the Mel Cox studio is unique in its relationship to natural light. It is the only dance space where sunlight actively enters and transforms the room throughout the day. That quality alone makes it distinct, and it directly shapes how my installation will function. The translucent fabrics I plan to suspend will not just respond to movement and airflow, but also to shifting light, making the work inseparable from this specific environment. After settling on this direction, I began translating the concept into more concrete visual plans. I created two new sketches: one focused on mapping out the measurements of the space, and another aimed at better visualizing how the suspended fabrics will occupy and interact within the room. These drawings helped me move from a purely conceptual idea into something more spatially and structurally grounded.


Throughout the week, I also spent time in the studio taking detailed and accurate measurements. I documented not just the overall dimensions of the room, but also specific elements like the mirrors and windows, which will play an important role in how the installation is experienced. This process made me more aware of the precision required for site-specific work, especially when the goal is to create something that feels integrated rather than imposed.
In a really helpful conversation with Ashley, I started thinking more strategically about construction. She suggested using Adobe Illustrator to digitally map out the space using my measurements. From there, I can use a laser cutter to create the walls of a scale model. This approach feels like a major step forward in both efficiency and accuracy. Instead of relying on manual measuring and cutting, which can be time-consuming and prone to error, I’ll be able to construct a much cleaner and more precise model. What’s especially exciting is the potential to incorporate materials like plexi for the windows, which will allow me to simulate how light interacts with the space. The laser cutter opens up possibilities for a higher level of detail, making the model not just a representation of the studio, but a tool for testing how my installation might actually behave within it.
This week felt like a shift from imagining to engineering. I’m starting to think not just about what the installation means, but how it will physically exist. Moving forward, I’m excited to start building the model and begin experimenting with how the fabrics, light, and structure come together to fully realize the piece.
4/13/2026
This week marked a shift from observation into creation, as I began translating my site research into visual and conceptual proposals. I developed two initial sketches, one for the Berry Center butterfly path and one for the Mel Cox Dance Studio, each responding in very different ways to the environments I encountered last week.
For the Berry Center, I found myself returning to the butterfly path and thinking about its seasonal limitations. When I visited, there were no butterflies present, yet the space is clearly designed to celebrate them. This absence sparked the core idea behind my installation: what if the presence of butterflies could be felt year-round, regardless of season? In my sketch, I centered the installation around a large cocoon form placed within the circular seating area. The cocoon is tethered both to the ground and to the surrounding trees, creating a sense of tension and transformation that extends beyond a single object. Conceptually, the cocoon represents potential and becoming a suspended moment before emergence. I’m interested in how this form might suggest unseen life or imminent change, allowing viewers to imagine the presence of butterflies even when they are not physically there. It builds on the site’s existing themes of nature and education, while also introducing a more symbolic and immersive layer.

In contrast, my proposal for the Mel Cox Dance Studio focuses less on representation and more on activating the invisible dynamics already present in the space. Inspired by installation artist Ernesto Neto and choreographer William Forsythe, I began exploring how material, movement, and environment could intersect. This installation, Breath Held / Breath Released, consists of translucent fabrics suspended from the ceiling throughout the studio. While visually minimal, these materials are highly responsive, they shift, billow, and tremble in response to airflow, proximity, and the movement of bodies.

What excites me about this concept is how it reframes the studio itself. Dancers already occupy this space daily, but the installation would make their presence newly visible by capturing the traces of their movement. Breath becomes a central focus: something usually internal and unseen is externalized through the motion of the fabric. In this way, the installation creates a kind of secondary choreography, one generated not by deliberate steps, but by the residual energy of bodies moving through space. It also invites non-dancers to engage physically, transforming viewers into participants whose subtle actions activate the work.
Across both proposals, I’m noticing a shared interest in suspension whether it’s the cocoon holding a moment before transformation or the fabric capturing the space between inhale and exhale. Both ideas attempt to make something intangible feel present, whether that’s seasonal absence or the invisibility of breath and movement.
Moving forward, I want to continue refining these concepts by thinking more concretely about materials, scale, and audience interaction. I’m especially interested in how each installation might change over time, whether through environmental conditions or repeated use. As I develop these ideas further, I plan to create more sketches and began measuring the spaces for the small-scale models.
4/6/2026
This weekend ended up being busier than I expected, but I still made time to begin exploring ideas for my new site-specific project. I took a walk around the University of Wyoming campus with my fiancé, who knows the area much better than I do, so I let him lead the way and focused on observing the spaces we moved through.
We started by parking on 9th and walking up past the STEM center and surrounding science buildings. One of the first locations that caught my attention was an entryway I photographed. There was something about the structure and framing of the space that immediately felt like it could support an installation.

From there, we walked along a butterfly path near the Berry Center, which ended up being one of the most compelling areas of the entire walk. I took a couple photos of the central seating area that features bronze animal sculptures accompanied by informational placards. This space stood out to me because it already invites pause and reflection, but it also feels like it could be transformed into something more immersive. The circular layout and existing elements create a natural focal point, and I can already imagine how an installation could build on the themes of nature, education, and interaction that are already present.
We continued past the Education Lab Building, where I noticed another seating area that has potential, though it felt slightly less defined than the previous space. Still, I’m interested in how more open or undefined areas might allow for greater flexibility in design, especially if I want to create something that evolves as people move through it.
Finally, we made our way down to the conservatory. After stopping to read the placard there, I was struck by the open grassy area beyond it. Compared to the more structured spaces earlier in the walk, this area felt expansive and full of possibility. It would allow for a larger-scale installation, something that could interact with the natural environment more directly having wind, light, and movement becoming part of the piece itself.
Overall, this initial exploration was less about settling on one final site and more about starting to see the campus differently. I found myself thinking about how people already use these spaces, what draws them in, and how an installation could either enhance or disrupt those patterns. Each location offered something unique, and I’m excited to continue developing ideas that respond not just to the physical environment, but to the experiences already embedded within it.
Looking ahead, I plan to start translating these observations into sketches later this week, using the photos I took as a foundation for developing more concrete design ideas. I also want to continue my exploration by moving indoors and investigating how interior spaces might function differently for a site-specific work. I’m especially interested in photographing the Buchanan Center lobby and the Engineering Building, both of which I think could offer unique architectural features and spatial dynamics to respond to. Exploring these interiors will help me consider how lighting, circulation, and enclosure might shape the experience of an installation in ways that differ from the outdoor sites I’ve been drawn to so far.