1/25/26
This week, my project shifted largely because of feedback and the found object I chose. I originally planned to build my miniature installation inside a Red Bull can. It felt convenient and familiar, but during class Ashley pushed me to challenge myself further and consider an object with more history and intention. That comment stalled me for a while and I struggled to find something that felt both old and meaningful.
Then I visited my family in Rawlins and I remembered a set of antique tea-making utensils that belonged to my great grandmother. Among them was a small sugar dish made of porcelain. Unlike the Red Bull can, this object carries a sense of ritual, care, and memory. Choosing it felt personal in a way that also made me more nervous. I am now working with an object that already holds meaning, and that has forced me to slow down and think more carefully about every decision I make inside it.
Because the dish is opaque, the viewer must look down into the opening to access the interior space. This creates a private viewing experience, as if the audience is peering into something that is usually closed or protected. The interior feels contained, and the lip where the lid rests has become a critical spatial threshold. Right now, that edge feels both important and unresolved, as I am still deciding how to activate it without overwhelming the small scale of the piece.
My connection to Chiharu Shiota has been guiding these spatial questions. I am deeply drawn to her use of red thread to suggest memory, entanglement, and emotion. I want to bring that sensibility into my work, but I am still testing how it should exist inside this object. I am currently torn between two options. The first is to have red thread emerge from the bottom interior of the dish and connect to the lid, so that when the lid is lifted, the thread is physically pulled along with it. This option emphasizes interaction and tension, making the act of opening the dish feel charged. The second option is to fill the interior with thread and create a delicate balustrade around the lip where the lid is meant to sit, suggesting containment, protection, or even obstruction.
At this point, I am unsure which direction best works with the object and the emotional weight I want the piece to carry. I am questioning whether the work should invite movement or resist it, and whether the lid should feel activated or restricted.
Madalynn, this is a thoughtful and meaningful shift, and it’s clear you took the feedback seriously. Moving away from a familiar object toward something with personal history and ritual was a brave decision, and your writing shows that you are slowing down and thinking carefully about the space you’re working inside.
The sugar dish is an intimate container, and the way the viewer must look down into it creates a private, almost protected viewing experience. That impulse is working. At this scale, it’s important to remember that a “room” doesn’t need walls, floors, and ceilings in a literal sense. A room can be defined by thresholds, edges, and how the viewer enters visually or psychologically. The lip of the dish where the lid rests is already functioning as a threshold, and you’re right to focus on how that edge is activated.
Your connection to Chiharu Shiota is appropriate here, especially in how you’re thinking about memory, tension, and containment. Both options you’re considering—the thread pulling with the lid, or the thread forming a barrier around the interior—are viable, but they do different conceptual work. One invites interaction and creates tension through movement; the other resists entry and emphasizes protection and containment. I’d encourage you to choose one clear spatial action and push it further, rather than trying to make the piece do both.
As you move forward, keep asking yourself:
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Where does the “room” begin for the viewer?
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What moment defines entry?
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Does the work invite access, or does it hold the viewer at a distance—and why?
This is a strong start, especially for a first installation project. Focus on clarity rather than complexity, and let the scale of the object do some of the work for you. You’re asking the right questions; the next step is committing to one spatial decision and seeing it through.
Madelynn -
ReplyDeleteI really want you to look at the artist Glen Martin Taylor. I don't necessarily see his work as installation artwork, but he utilizes the object you are set on and combines it with sensations of fear or anxiety. I wonder if the cup becomes the object of the installation, and the "gallery space" and the found object come a little later. Is there a space that gives you anxiety or can give the general public anxiety? Is there a shape that can cause those emotions that could act as the space. I wouldn't dismiss the box idea because of the constraints and tension it creates within the space.
What if it's overwhelming, and the entire box is filled with thread or another object so we can barely make out the teacup? What if the teacup is shattered and held up by a thread, serving as a puppet? I wouldn't beat yourself up about the initial idea not working perfectly, because brainstorming and figuring out the best way to create the visual narrative are always part of the process. And you already had the pieces of what you wanted to say brought to the table!
Keeley