Husk, 2020

Description:

"I formed the feet of Husk around my feet as an exercise to sooth myself after a traumatic loss. In the beginning of my grief I had to keep moving to gain enough distance to find perspective, it felt like trudging up an endless staircase. The distance I needed was in time, and I worked tirelessly on this large figure to fill it.  A tree representing life force, natural and rough, grows through temple forms in the abdomen, breaking apart a linear grid in the chest. The grid is a metaphor for my human constructions, barriers, and projections that could not contain the realities of nature. The figure looks outward, with arms above its shoulders, hands clasped on the head, if light threw a shadow, the arms and head would create an eye shape. The face swings open to let the energy free, the real substance of the work is no longer in the sculpture, husk refers to the figure left behind, like an exoskeleton, cocoon, shell, or abandoned city." - Kristen Newell

Kristen Newell: Unfolding