Shadow Selves: How To Forget To Disappear
Rachel Mulder
Opening Reception: Jan 18th 4-8pm, exhibit runs to Feb 13
CEI/ArtWorks Gallery
408 SW Monroe, Corvallis, OR
https://outpost1000.weebly.com/rachel-mulder.html
http://www.rachelmulderart.com
instagram handle: rchlmldr
Artwork Description/Artist Statement:
As I ricochet between what I make and how I make it, my life similarly darts back and forth between feeling huge and feeling small, followed by the aftermath of worrying that I’ve taken up too much or too little space. I vacillate between trusting myself and allowing myself to disappear for the sake of others.
Artistically, I spent a long time hiding behind meticulous process because I was too afraid or lazy or something to dig back into my inner narrative. These drawings are a return to an expression and exploration of my inner psyche and a departure from the process and control I indulged in until recently. It feels more honest to allow the ink to do what it does, and respond accordingly with stories I wasn’t ready to admit, or that I was in denial of, or that I didn’t feel were valid enough.
After emerging from an emotionally abusive relationship this summer, I was able to take a step back and see that I was manipulated to behave like a ghost, tiptoeing around to solve unsolvable problems that were always my fault, skittering around nervously to preserve the relationship, and shrinking down to a breathless shadow of myself. This is not a new story: women have been taught to shrink for a long time, and are punished both for not shrinking enough and for shrinking too much. As I write this, there is a feeling of dread that in my cocoon of privilege, I am just making self-indulgent art about how my feelings were hurt, but these behaviors, both of victim and abuser, are systemic of our unwell society.
The characters in these drawings both embrace and fight with one another. They control situations, obfuscate narratives with detached and repeating limbs emerging from murky ink-washes. They wear masks or unveil hidden faces. Using ink and water-soluble graphite, I dart back and forth between the certainty of contour lines in ink and the reaction and unpredictability when it hits wet paper. It becomes a therapeutic, on-paper balancing act that serves as a reminder for myself (and hopefully others) not to disappear.
Rachel Mulder
Opening Reception: Jan 18th 4-8pm, exhibit runs to Feb 13
CEI/ArtWorks Gallery
408 SW Monroe, Corvallis, OR
https://outpost1000.weebly.com/rachel-mulder.html
http://www.rachelmulderart.com
instagram handle: rchlmldr
Artwork Description/Artist Statement:
As I ricochet between what I make and how I make it, my life similarly darts back and forth between feeling huge and feeling small, followed by the aftermath of worrying that I’ve taken up too much or too little space. I vacillate between trusting myself and allowing myself to disappear for the sake of others.
Artistically, I spent a long time hiding behind meticulous process because I was too afraid or lazy or something to dig back into my inner narrative. These drawings are a return to an expression and exploration of my inner psyche and a departure from the process and control I indulged in until recently. It feels more honest to allow the ink to do what it does, and respond accordingly with stories I wasn’t ready to admit, or that I was in denial of, or that I didn’t feel were valid enough.
After emerging from an emotionally abusive relationship this summer, I was able to take a step back and see that I was manipulated to behave like a ghost, tiptoeing around to solve unsolvable problems that were always my fault, skittering around nervously to preserve the relationship, and shrinking down to a breathless shadow of myself. This is not a new story: women have been taught to shrink for a long time, and are punished both for not shrinking enough and for shrinking too much. As I write this, there is a feeling of dread that in my cocoon of privilege, I am just making self-indulgent art about how my feelings were hurt, but these behaviors, both of victim and abuser, are systemic of our unwell society.
The characters in these drawings both embrace and fight with one another. They control situations, obfuscate narratives with detached and repeating limbs emerging from murky ink-washes. They wear masks or unveil hidden faces. Using ink and water-soluble graphite, I dart back and forth between the certainty of contour lines in ink and the reaction and unpredictability when it hits wet paper. It becomes a therapeutic, on-paper balancing act that serves as a reminder for myself (and hopefully others) not to disappear.
