Waste, trash, rubbish, objects that lay strewn across streets and sidewalks: these are just as much a (partial) picture of society as are other things. They tell a story of want and then disdain, use and neglect — the story of being lost, being forgotten, replaced in the world’s endless and ever-quickening cycles.
Bloom consists of found objects picked up from the ground that are carefully wrapped in unraveled threads from used clothing. At times the original object is clearly recognizable; at others times there’s only a glimpse of it or none at all, as the objects meld together into new forms, held together in their clusters by the threads that encase them.
Perhaps the whole process speaks to a certain futility: a selfish desire to beautify and to impose meaning that becomes stifling. And yet perhaps, despite that, it also speaks to a certain truth: a very human need to put-together, a desire to find, and a fulfillment in bridging just some of the seemingly fragmented bits of life. Perhaps then, beauty is simply “despite”, a kind of quiet resilience that takes root and lives.
(Found objects, used clothes)