GALLERIES

THE MILLION PIECES MIRROR (MARCH 2025)

Photos by Jaidah-Leigh Wyatt, Joselyn Zendejas, Madison Armstrong
Presented at “Solarium x Lunarium
Special Projects Gallery, York University

I have recently been interested in contradictory nature of being a person. We all have these conflicting thoughts - angry parts of ourselves next to ambivalence or nonchalance. We’re hypocritical and full of regrets and pride and fears and I wanted to display that somehow. Thus, I set out to create a project that captures all these unique parts of a person (based off of my personal experiences) through sound. 
Sound is such an important part of memory and communication, so it made sense to represent the different parts of the self via sound bites. This way I would be able to get the variations I wanted through somber, ambient and loud/exciting noises. I had originally aimed to make my project one large mirror made up of different mirror pieces that would be touch activated - allowing participants to interact directly with the mirror and hear the 47 sounds via bluetooth headphones, but this unfortunately didn’t work out as I couldn’t figure out a feasible workflow to get the mirror pieces to be touch activated.
I spent a lot of time trying to figure out the logistics of this piece and became very frustrated with it and myself. I was really only enjoying collecting different soundbites and writing new works to be recorded, while the mirror itself became secondary to me. I was losing the heart of my piece - was it the mirror or was it the sound? 
I eventually pivoted to focusing on the sound aspect of my work as that was the core of the piece that would tie everything together, while the mirror was more decorative in nature. I decided to go with multiple mirrors - broken, kept within their own frames and covered with resin to safety proof them - and a midi keyboard acting as a soundboard so that participants would be able to play either one sound at a time or multiple sounds. I wanted to give people the opportunity to either tune into one sound (pay attention to key aspects of the mind) or listen to several overlapping sounds at once. While some sounds cut into each other, most of them will play together and create a wild harmony of noise. Once a sound starts playing, you can really only replace it with another or play even more thoughts to accompany it. The mind is a machine that just keeps on going after all. The current Million Pieces Mirror is a far cry from what I originally pitched, but it still captures my idea in a way that was feasible to my skill level at the time. And this isn't the end. There will be more to come.



PURA VIDA (NOVEMBER 2024)

Photos by Jaidah-Leigh Wyatt
Presented at “Pura Vida: An Exhibition inspired by the Las Nubes EcoCampus Experience”
Gales Gallery, York University

Featuring my first ever sound art exhibition, On the Coast is a collage of my experience studying abroad in Costa Rica in the Spring of 2024. I recorded sound bites for the entirety of the trip, getting bits of conversations, the frequent (but glorious) rain, the wind drifting through the trees and cars driving on dirt terrains. I learned a lot about not just artist residencies in general, but offered me a short glimpse into the Costa Rican way of life. 

Living in a homestay, eating delicious meals and participating in community events really enriched my experience there, and reminded me a lot of my time growing up in Jamaica. These nostalgic and peaceful feelings came together into a kaleidoscope of the emotions I felt during my week long stay. Starting out shy and quiet, in a class of people I'd never met before in a country I'd never visted and didn't know the language of, but slowly growing into a community of voices, music and booming sound. There were hiccups here and there, as I began to feel sick halfway through my journey (which is represented in the piece) but it ends on a note of joy, togetherness and community, mellowing out into the quietness the piece began. 



CHROMA’S KEY (APRIL 2024)

Photos by Maggie Tsang
Presented at “Into a Kaleidoscope
918 Bathurst Street

CHROMA’S KEY is a mixed-media experimental art installation comprising of a radio show, a commercial played on a CRT TV, and a computer display all inspired by early 2000s technology. Participants are encouraged to find the password to a locked CD, which contains 'chroma's key' by interacting with the exhibition. Its multimedia format invites users to re-format their romanticization for early 2000s nostalgia. Our project aims to not only invoke feelings of nostalgia, but also demystify it. Through the ever-expanding network of the World Wide Web, we will examine the good and the bad of early 2000s internet core, from the fun and bright visuals of Windows XP, down to its slow load times and abysmal performance speeds. Participants will experience the digital side of these internet relics, and the very much physical/analogue pieces associated with them, experiencing this tactileness first hand by using a CD player to read a video, and navigating through the Windows XP interface.

The crossroads of liminality and chroma-keying technology inspired CHROMA'S KEY. Both focus on the jarring and uncanny limbo between “what was” and “what will be”. Especially in the artistic sphere of things, the repeated aesthetic downgrade of quirkier and more inventive designs to accommodate plainer, more corporate looks, makes the future seem seeped in a palette of monochrome compared to the rainbow of the past. Minimalism, symmetry and sleek designs have all but taken over the design world in the past few decades. With all this in mind, when looking back at the past through rose-coloured glasses (as we often do), it is hard to look forward to the future without apprehension. CHROMA’S KEY hopes to change this by removing the mysticism of nostalgia and presenting it flatly, as its most honest self. The past was a charm, but the future still holds hope too.

CHROMA’S KEY was a collaborative project with Ivan Ceria.






UNTITLED (FEBRUARY 2024)

Photos by Hannah Somers
Presented at “CameraLinks 2024: Who am I?”
Gallery 44, 401 Richmond Street

When given the opportunity to participate in Gallery44’s CameraLinks gallery, I was initially hesistant as I had only very recently begun my darkroom photography journey, and only had limited photos on hand to display. Eventually though, I settled on one.

I’m still not sure exactly what brought me to this ‘Untitled’ image of a flag waving in the wind, the words ‘I’m sorry grandma’ partially obscured on it, but I found something poignant about it. Flags are often used as powerful symbols that represent countries, politics and identities. In this sense they are used as a tool for communication, but not usually this bluntly. 

There is something poetic about using a flag to spread a message like this. It is a display for all to see, all to understand,  while retaining the original symbolic meaning of a flag,yet it is only meant for one person. This image proves that a flag is not a piece of coloured cloth waving in the wind. It is a message, and it can say whatever you want it to say.

Your dress waving in the wind.
This
is the only flag I love.

       ~ Garous Abdolmalekian (Translation: Idra Novey)






WHAT WE COULD HAVE (JANUARY 2023)




Photos by Christine Lim
Presented at “DesignTO Youth: Blueprint”
NAMARA Project Space

FULL TRANSPARENCY - Read original artist statement here

This film was changed from its original vision. As life is full of surprises (some good and some bad), so is art and creation, and unfortunately the original edit of this film was lost. Change is often unwanted, uninvited and unexpected. It is rarely neat or orderly. It doesn’t wait for us to adapt to it nor does it ever retreat or leave, even when you ask politely. Change often ruins plans and alters our ideas, but of course, without it things could never grow.

I am admittedly disappointed that the version of this film I almost had is gone. There were ideas for it that will never come to fruition, and time and effort I put into it that has forever been wasted. The attachment I had for that film (which I had to recreate with only pieces of the original) makes me want to hate this change, but sometimes things have to be drastic in order to create an active difference. I think you know what I’m getting at here.

Sometimes change is a pasted note over an artist statement in a gallery, where you can easily see through it to what original plans could be (even if there’s no point to it anymore). Sometimes change is months of work getting deleted with no rhyme or reason. But most importantly, sometimes (more often than not) change is necessary.

Even if we love our films, our cities, and our homes, there is almost always something that can and should be changed about them - whether you like it or not. This is what my current film aims to illustrate.