Frances Wasn't a Saint
2018 - 2020
pigment print on aluminum panel
Through attempts at self-portraiture, I inadvertently summoned a visitant. Her name is Frances. She is not a persona, nor is she my alter-ego. Frances is a ghost; visiting often, she seeks form through possession. I allow her to inhabit me, to guide me in making us a world within a world, creating environments to contemplate the horror of manufactured desire and the beauty of imagined futures. In these worlds, we come up against the terror and brutal beauty embedded in myths of purity. Together, we float in and out of consciousness, knowing the “childhood terror of the written-upon body.” Together we confront the historical gaze.
Upon further contemplation, I have come to understand that Frances, when captured in a photographic still, or slow-moving image, transforms into an iconic figure for my time. There is room for every individual to see more in the icon, to bring their own nuanced, layered experience and interpretations to what Frances offers. Is she a saint? a protector? an overseer? Is she you? The ideal icon represents all that is, and that which is always in a state of becoming. Frances defies the historically celebrated mute mother image of patriarchal religious tradition. She leaves the static frame and enters our world, moving about and among us.