Kitchen Drawer Gallery
This first installation for Kitchen Drawer Gallery was titled ‘Leftovers,’ and it contained three interactive doors which could be pulled open to reveal a lighted interior space. The materials were gleaned from the detritus of my home studio space, arranged as a strange Lilliputian cityscape, reminiscent of the film ‘Metropolis.’ The opening was in the summer of 2023. Only myself, my dog, and my sleeping infant were present. The lights were low, and I peeked through the three openings one at a time to see the installation I had constructed. As I sat in the dark at my first opening as a new mother, I thought about how the context of this work changed its meaning.
Over the next few months, my relationship with the work changed. I accidentally opened the gallery when looking for a lightbulb. While bending down to retrieve a bottle, my baby brushed the handle with his outstretched hand. My dog curiously snuffled around the drawer, looking for crumbs. When the upstairs neighbors came down for lunch one day, their kids were confused about the gallery- why did the drawer have a label on it? What was in it? They opened and explored the gallery for a few minutes, then ran off in search of toys. Looking back on this first iteration of Kitchen Drawer Gallery, I’m struck by the difference between the interactions I had with this installation those I’ve had in traditional galleries. I’ve often wished I could live with works of art I’ve loved- to see how my understanding of these works might change if I saw them through the bleary eyes of half-sleep, or while hungry, or even when distracted and angry. How can you really understand something if you have to keep it at a distance?