Michelle Francescon
Traffic Jam
Mixed media: Performance for camera & Found Objects Sculpture, 25.5 x 15 cm.
I made this piece as a part of an experimental series that I started this year. Each month I work on the floor, in a corner of my house, to build an object with my hands. I only use objects from a box that I curate and maintain for this series, consisting of toys my daughter has broken or outgrown, and objects she and I have found together on the street. (This collection actually started many years ago as a way to appease and accept my daughter’s neurodivergent compulsion to pick up and want to keep small pieces of shiny or textured things from all public places.) I use this performative part of my art practice to display an adult woman and mother who plays by herself, and how she might use toys and objects similarly to or quite different from a child. I work from a place of loose stream of consciousness to land on a final scene or sculpture that I can finish in one sitting. Myself in the corner with these objects and the final sculpture become what I call a “playscape.” The corner is no longer a place of formative shame and guilt. This particular session and sculpture photographed is titled, “Traffic Jam,” and consists of all the toy vehicles from the box and a pair of outgrown panties.
Sacred Burning Washcloth
Mixed media, found object sculpture, 12.5 x 7.6 cm
This sculpture is an old washcloth that sat and stiffened over time in the corner of my shower. It started as a shameful sting each time I took a shower and glanced over at it, sitting there, neglected once again. Shower after shower I’d cycle through thoughts like: ‘How long is it going to sit there before you move it in order to properly clean the shower?’ ‘Why am I the only person in this family who thinks about putting this washcloth in the dirty clothes hamper?’ ‘I’m too tired to do the wash tonight.’ ‘Does anyone else wonder about how this washcloth is standing upright?’ For these questions, for all these showers of contemplation, I decided it was the closest thing to a sacred object to me. So I painted it, and allowed it to be a shrine displaying and honoring the hair I loose every time I shower.