The 'C' Word
The 'C' Word Artist Statment
I am vulgar, explicit, and dark. My blood boils. My heart has been broken. The “C” Word is a blunt confrontation about the recurring mistreatment and perversion of women and the queer community.
It tells the story of being stuck playing with a GameBoy, protesting for the game to finally end. Suppressing and choking on feelings; learning there are different rules for those who don't have a joystick. Fantasizing about being seen as a teammate rather than a prize.
A Koi fish hanging out of a mouth, gagged, unable to breathe or speak out again after not being believed. Being told it was her fault for even going to the party, for wearing those shorts, for thinking she could trust them.
A scorpion on a woman's inner thigh, skirt lifted, exposed, vulnerable, too dangerous to swat away. She is unprotected and preparing for pain; left with a throbbing wound, dripping its poison like puss. Unveiling the nauseating connections between venomous creatures with eight legs and those with two.
Appallingly, one in six women have experienced attempted or completed acts of violence, such as rape and abuse. That statistic jumps to an average of nearly 50% for LGBTQIA+ members. The abrasive nature of this project responds accordingly to such a major societal issue. If the language or images I use are offensive, it is because these acts of violence and the blatant disregard for this atrocity are as well.
The chaotic order of each collage presents the complexity of the rights of passages to adulthood. Picking at the scabs of latent ramifications of the societal norms. Vintage family photographs represent the history of swallowing screams, resulting only with painful, silent tears.
Gun in hand, fingers wrapped within the trigger, wanting to act, unable to shoot. Paralyzed by the embedded patriarchy. Seized by the unknown consequences of speaking out, a living nightmare’s potential to turn from bad to worse. Doing what it takes to survive, unphased by the slits between fingers from creating weapons out of car keys.
Anger is rooted from heartache relating to so many women in my life. Concerns over their safety and control of the rights to their own bodies. Watching children being formed by sexist language, derived by subconscious misogyny. Releasing sharp unspoken slurs to reclaim the divine power within terms such as, cunt.