Define a Space

A restroom is a place that everyone is familiar with.  When I found the bathroom on the 6^th floor of Thomas Hunter Hall, I had an eerie, ghostly feeling. I was completely alone there. The paint is chipped, the architecture is antiquated, and the space is narrow. It gave me a strange hollow feeling.  For something so familiar, it felt very foreign and unsettling. The sink is oddly bright red, contrasting with the faded color scheme, and half the stalls lead 

to showers with industrial rusted piping. Overall, it felt creepy in its decay paired with the familiarity of such a space."  

1) Wide shot of entire bathroom from the entrance, focusing down the narrow hallway

2) Low angle shot from the stairs that lead up onto the main platform

3) Close up of dripping water from the faucet

4) Swish pan with the opening of one of the wooden stall doors

5) Close up on rusty hinges as the door opens

6) Extreme close up dirty floor tiles

7) Extreme close up on brown Shower interior, possibly through the shutters on the stall 
door

8) Deep focus Shower POV medium shot into stall across the way

9) Tracking (or still wide shot) of stalls from ground level showing they are not in use (no feet)

10) Overhead shot of rust pipes looming over the shower

About Me

Artist Statement:

I’d be absolutely mortified if he caught me watching him. The sturdy gentleman across the train kept kind eyes beneath a tattered beanie, calloused hands hanging from his pockets as if his arms had given up. He was in disarray, but not homeless I decide, but now it’s my stop. A “people watcher,” I guess you could call me. I prefer hyper-observant, not-at-all-pretentious, struggling actress. Listen, people are inherently interesting. I love idiosyncrasies. I love the teeny-tiny details that go into a moment in life - nearly imperceptible, but as identifying as a fingerprint. So I love language, and nuance, and wit through human interaction and I want to share the comedy and drama that results.

I want people to know that they are not alone, That’s what TV, film, and books did for me. I went to an excellent school surrounded by intelligence, and worked full time at Disney World, fostering emotions and believing in magic. I want my work to find bits of “magic” in everyday life. I want people to feel that they have a place in the world in a way that encourages them to interact with it. There’s pixie dust in music, silence, relationships, nature, and tragedy, if you’re willing to see it. (And willing to suppress your emotional gag reflex to let yourself be whimsical, for, like, once. Gosh.)

Hopefully my work circumvents the mundane, highlights the atoms of humanity, and finds the heart in every person, every dragon, every golden retriever, and every toaster out there. And maybe also doesn’t take itself too, seriously.