I
am a conceptual artist working with multiple mediums and across
several disciplines. I create both sculpture and interactive installation
art. My work is inspired by mythology, gender politics, and pop
culture, and I often address the problematics of being a woman living
in a patriarchal society. I attempt to challenge modern culture’s
views toward Goddess worship and mythological story. Through the
use of mythic icons, I try to bridge the gap between HIStory and
the present; between patriarchy and matriarchy, and the Old religions
versus the New. The incorporation of the elements – earth,
air, fire, water, metal, and wood are integral to my work, as is
the use of recycled materials and my obsession with process and
repetition. Utilizing my interior design and metal fabricating skills
within the sculptural context allows me to create environments that
are aesthetically pleasing while serving a functionality that is
also playful.
As a child, I had yearned to be one of the boys. I wanted to be
as strong, as fast, their equal. I built forts in the woods like
them, tried to play sports as well as them; I seldom wore dresses,
and never played with Barbie dolls. Now I wouldn’t trade anything
to be a man, but I still desire that equality I knew was amiss even
as a small child. That desire for equality has been a driving force
in my art for many years. Much like the forts I built and the games
I created with the kids in my neighborhood, I now build fortresses
of steel, and playgrounds, for adults and children alike to escape
to — a place where our world may be reinvented and where we
might imagine that men and women can co-exist on equal terms.
In the early nineties, I juxtaposed body parts and female imagery
to create walk through environments that expressed my frustrations
with gender politics in a patriarchal society. In 1999, I played
out these frustrations ultimately with the construction of a twelve-foot
tall Goddess stretched back in an ancient birthing position. Named
Diana, after the fertility Goddess of the Old Religions, She served
as a gnomon for a larger than life working sundial, with the tip
of her crown casting a shadow to reveal the time. By night, She
served as a centerpiece for an all woman performance piece I had
choreographed. The dramatic igniting of the Goddesses' yoni was
the climax to this theatrical event. My intention was to convey
a message concerning current patriarchal structures and their relentless
destruction of the environment. By re-igniting worship in “mother
earth” I had hoped the performers and I were creating a catalyst
for more global healing. Diana’s crumbling to the ground after
burning symbolized for me the historical struggle between God and
Goddess worship that has prevailed for so many centuries, with most
female accomplishments utterly lost to written HIStory in the endless
wake of patriarchy.
By the year 2000, my “in your face” feminist approach
to art making began taking a back seat to more subtle expressions
found in the use of mythological story, as seen in Draka the Dragon
and Dahud-Ahes the Mermaid. Up to this point, my work confronted
and questioned death, disease, aging, and other life issues. Now,
I borrow from the past in order to create positive potential for
the future, with my feminist views hidden like little secrets within
the subject’s mythos. My quest for a “reaction”
from the viewer began to unravel into a deeper concern for interactivity
between the art piece and the viewer. In a sense, Draka the Dragon
became my vehicle for a modern day crusade against the religion
I was spoon fed as a child, and institution I most despise as an
adult, the Catholic Church. With regard to Draka, there is no St.
George to slay the dragon in his effort to save the damsel in distress.
This time around the dragon is actually in cahoots with the damsel
and they’re trying to protect the world from the horror of
George (W) and his cabinet of white knights.
While working with performance artist Linda Montano at UT Austin,
I took to heart her idea that Art is Life and Life is Art. In recent
years, I successfully translated that philosophy in founding and
organizing the annual Burnin’Bush Fire & Metal Arts Festival,
and in forming the Sisterhood of the Burnin’Bush, a coalition
for women in the arts — my SouthWest alternative to the secret
society of NYC’s Gorilla Girls. The Burnin’Bush Festival
consists of a weekend gathering for workshops in welding and blacksmithing
while camping in the Black Rock Desert area of northern Nevada.
I am quite proud of the title and its play on words, and the humor
found in creating a true dichotomy between the biblical burning
bush and that of the sexual bush (found between a woman’s
legs). This event was envisioned so that artists may unite and find
empowerment in that unity. By default, it also makes a comical commentary
on our president, George W., especially during these trying times
of war and horrific disaster. Ironically, the festival is celebrated
on the 4th of July, our nations most patriotic holiday of the year,
proving further to be a satire on the day we American citizens are
supposed to celebrate our freedom of expression in this so-called
“land of the free.” As part of the Burnin’Bush
Project I also designed and printed currency for the event. These
Burnin’Bills were distributed to persons making donations
to the festival in anticipation that as years passed the bills would
be used for barter. Satire on our government is further expressed
through the imagery and words I have chosen to incorporate into
these “red-back” Burnin’Bills.
As an adult, I see myself acting out similar desires I had in childhood,
to lead and organize my friends in creative and interesting projects.
It is through making art, functioning as a mother, and working with
my peers that I am further compelled to teach something about respect
and love for nature and the universe that surrounds us. I believe
I have a duty to honor and serve my past by exposing a bit about
the mystical and spiritual, the Old Ways, which have been forgotten
by most of society, but were handed down to me by my Sicilian ancestors.
My ancestors knew much about embracing a more feminine approach
to existence itself.
I see also the craft of seamstress that my grandmother possessed
carried into my work, as well as her burden. Rosaria Pedone, like
other women of that era living in New York City, married at an early
age, had children, and society dictated that they have no opportunity
to live out their dreams. Women were forbidden to work (period).
As I build my sculptures I attempt to manifest those unfulfilled
dreams for my grandmother, for her mother, for my mother, my sisters,
my daughter, and for all women, and the women who came before them.
All the way back to Lilith and Eve, to releasing the guilt and the
burden we’ve carried for too long, of being the evil one,
the first wrong doer, succumbing to temptation, and therfor ranking
second somehow in importance to MAN (Adam). For every sculpture,
or fortress, I construct today, the sticks and tree limbs of my
childhood have turned into steel and their strength delivers the
ability to sail masses away into imaginary places, and toward dream
worlds where evil doesn’t always win. Where, maybe we can
find angels there to save us. By interweaving the energies and elements
of Nature with art, craft, architecture, design, and function, I
can only hope that my work sustains a power which enables others
to also envision a different world where equality, justice, and
love prevail.