kathryn cornelius  Interconnectedness is a tricky term to embrace. Personal technology and global communication systems claim to provide access to those we love and those we will never physically meet, forming ties between bloodlines and nations. Yet the feeling of so much information exchanged loosely binds and barely fills inner emotional gaps that crave recognition and release. Instead of confrontation, consumption has become a cushion against the experience of physical and emotional pain. Despite the attempt to control outcomes, repetition and accumulation are structuring devices that inevitably fracture their own system of organization and restraint.

My work responds to the spaces left between what is said and what is silent. I explore the methods by which we protect ourselves from experiencing the weight of disconnection with others and ourselves. My material is extracted from the everyday; those thin lines of purpose that attach us to histories, traditions, and social identities. As a conceptual strategy, absurdity and wit are employed to push perceived limits and levels of comfort. Constructing the personal out of the temporary is the ground used for creating performance, video and installation works. The intention is to let go of the skin and surface, and slip into a state of challenging silence.

On Resolve

Habits pattern day-to-day existence. In time habits can become rituals, platforms for meditation, reflection, release. To perform each routine requires endurance and determined self-awareness. With every repetition is the struggle of negotiating opportunity. The horizon is always the horizon. Individual conceptions of futility determine the length of a tether.

A note on the audio of Resolve. The video recording of the performance includes the sound of the ocean layered with a looped portion of audio taken from Gavin Bryars' The Sinking of the Titanic. The specific song is a rendition of Autumn, the song claimed to be heard by survivors of the Titanic, played by the orchestra as the ship made its descent.

--Kathryn Cornelius