How Do You Breathe, Betty?
2023. Medical tubing, ecoplastic, and air.
228 x 156 x 60 inches.
Dialysis machines hum as they filter blood, electro-stimulation tools zap deteriorated neurons, and ventilators push and pull air into and out of uncontrolled lungs: in my childhood I became intimately familiar with the intertwining relationship between machines and bodies while watching family members go through hospice care and, eventually, death. I’m fascinated by the interdependency that a failing body has with augmentative systems meant to aid its organs’ mechanical functions; these tools exemplify the machine-like and involuntary actions that occur day-to-day in our bodies.
The work is composed of one long pink inflatable membrane strung up via latex materials, and it is designed to evoke an oversized corporeal form. The saggy skin pulls taut when its air blower, mechanized on an electrical timer, stuffs air into the magenta plastic skin. The main form shapes and is shaped by the pliant web of yellow surgical tubing and latex resistance banding suspending it aloft in space. Air fills the piece, then slowly leaks out allowing the membrane to sag under its own weight before being filled again.