Madeleine Vietmeier - BA (Hons) Fine Art
A Duck Swam from San Francisco to Portugal and Never Got Wet
I seem to be always in conversation with myself. That must be the crux of all of this; of all my material attempts. I am trying to make sense of what it means to be alive and reckon with our passage of time. In this I contemplate the 'houses' of selves we construct and the myriad corridors they hold; what might it be if I could walk through the corridor of grief I run through intrnally? With all this work comes much about death and aging—a lot of fear really. I’m trying to not be so afraid. So, I’m not sure, really, how ‘successful’ I can ever be in my work. I am chasing something that can’t be grasped—too slippery. I have given up on thinking my work will ever do what I am searching for, not wholly. And that is good, it keeps me going. I think we are all feeling the same things, we just can’t always find the [words].
There is no beating around the bush; my grandmother died. Most of this work is for her; for me.
