In my live-work space, I look at the straight-line indentations that divide the concrete floor in perfect rectangular shapes. Within those lines, I place scissors with engraved words on their blades. The words included on them are taken from cartography books and survey manuals; the oldest of which is from the Land Ordinance of 1785 about the US rectangular system of surveys. Phrases like “chisel linearity,” “boundary establishment,” “land subdivision,” and “zenith angle,” appear on those blades. Institutionalized lines are dividing states, countries, and land in general. Cartographers use words and lines to break up physical spaces throughout the globe; these words are often the result of soldiers enforcing these boundaries. The installation space is filled with a sound that resembles the sound of scissors cutting coarse paper coming out from the desk. Up close, it is the sound of soldiers marching. As a promise for renewal, in front of the scissors, I mend the gaps with clay.
Location: Bemis Art Center for Contemporary Arts