I pour myself into every image I make.
But maybe a little more literally than that statement directly comes across.
Almost every image I make is a self portrait. Those tiny bits of plastic become me. They represent my strongly felt emotions, my experiences. And through this I attach myself so fully to their image.
I created these images of the Joker. I made the forms of his dog in clay. I sourced and painted the furniture. I built the room boxes by hand for a previous project, but then painted them for this one. Not long after, as something I agreed upon in advance, we sold him. I was devastated.
I never intended to make more photos with this figure. His work in my life, representing my life, was done. And yet, when I sent him off, I sent a part of me with him.
I had recently purchased this green figure. And the same day or day after the Joker figure left my life, I joked to Eric (my husband) that I’d be over my break up as soon as I familiarized myself with this new man.
And I wasn’t far off. I took the new figure to the local arboretum to begin exploring a new series I had planned when purchasing him to begin with. In roaming the nature and discovering images within it, I began to place my psyche into this new figure instead.
I still miss the Joker figure. I don’t typically get rid of figures, really at all, which is going to be a problem someday. But for now these pieces of me remain in my life in their physical and photographic forms and we’ll just see what comes next.
Monochrome 29 
Lost and Discovery 3 
Read also – A Personal Connection to a Toy
WOW, what talent! As I am now into the downsizing size of life, I understand how difficult it is to loose oneself from the “pieces of me.”
Thank you. That must be difficult. I do put too much emotion into my belongings in general. That part of life will not be easy for me.
Do you mind if I use your figure of speech in a blog? I give credit to you and have a link to your blog.
Not at all. Sounds good to me.
I really love the metal monochrome of the Joker series. It turns the seemingly familiar of the home – the curtains, the furniture, the inhabitants – into … something else. Something I cannot quite name but feel quite attracted to. In spite of the distance the color puts between me and the objects. Feels like a not quite forgotten but not quite remembered dream.
I absolutely love this analyzation. Thank you so much.