ARTIST STATEMENT

There is a strange dissonance of a keychain with an abundance of keys that no longer hold purpose. I find myself searching for the one that fits the lock of this great rolling door, and anticipating what might be waiting inside. If the keys of this heavy ring are any indication, they hint at the plethora of objects eager to see the light of day. As the door rolls toward the sky, the dust and creatures of a space frozen in time are reintroduced to the outside world. Beyond the threshold of this gateway lies a trove of treasures: cases of can tabs, binders filled with antique coins, and wardrobes crowded with obsolete technology. Each item had been deemed precious, meticulously stored to preserve its original, ideal state. But as the dust settles, the burden (and pleasures) of my late father’s storage unit come into focus. What am I to do with it all?

I am processing and transforming these family archives – simultaneously treasured collections and hoarded trash – to wrestle with the phenomenon of object attachment as a survival mechanism. Through an autoethnographic lens, I am exploring notions of human attachment to objects that hold both physical and emotional space, and how these occupy memory, identity, and grief. On a much more personal level, through my father’s archive, I question what objects can tell us about coping with embodied trauma. I position my work in conversation with my father’s belongings to explore how one “recognizes the embedded vulnerabilities of memory, inhibition, human existence, the precariousness of home, and the politics of belonging” (Lauzon 2017) through inherited objects. As I navigate both my father’s absence and the surplus of his objects, I explore how these items materialize relationships within domestic spaces. More importantly, I consider how they mark endurance, trauma, and coping mechanisms; every collected item is a signifier and a reminder of my father's addiction and substance abuse.