STATEMENT OF WORK

How do we define normal?

How do we design normal?

I grew up blocks from West Hollywood in the ‘00s. Homosexuality was becoming increasingly visible both in the media and throughout the neighborhoods I inhabited. My younger queer self felt a flurry of positive affirmations from this representation. Queer people were seeing a higher degree of public embrace, yet the physical acts that defined homosexuality remained hidden. Visibility had an insidious cost – the sanitization of sex in pursuit of wider acceptance. I, too, felt pressured to assimilate as I grew into adulthood, distancing myself from the very traits that define my queerness. I not only diminished the homosexual characteristics core to who I am, but I focused on being relatable, even if it meant appearing unremarkable. I find myself returning to this ambiguous “normal” with my artistic inquiries. Social definitions of normalcy and how infrastructure is designed to accommodate these conventions are central to my practice. 

Exploring uniform objects that aestheticize our designed environment, I wonder how products influence what becomes perceived as normal. I linger on the prefabricated ones that feel most ubiquitous and forgettable: the yellow pencils on school desks, the lined papers filling notebooks, the collared button-downs that hang in each closet. These objects are so familiar as to be unnoticed, yet their presence is influential. Each comes with a particular design that our bodies, at one point or another, must adapt to. We acclimate to the specific engineering oddities that are standard in society, engaging in a dance embedded deep within our motor skills. Each tool is yet another partner to tango with. Our products are uniform by necessity, letting us anticipate their functions. This uniformity provides us with convenience – but it fosters conformity as its banal outcome.