Jenni Freidman

http://www.jennifreidman.com

I have long found elements of a personal narrative in the aspects of nature. I see
possibility where most find emptiness. Corn roots tap a line to the past, withered flora
can mark a place and shadows carry the promise of light. It has been a constant in my
work, this ability to build an autobiography from the small things I would find while
walking, looking down around my footsteps.

When I had my daughter I was astounded at how at once everything and nothing changed.
I struggled to make sense of this in my work. Time that I had to myself to really think was
short. The most concentrated time I found for my thoughts to wander was while driving.
I began to notice masses of leaves and eventually found a parallel for the constant
overwhelm that I was feeling.

I would imagine sometimes flying away, seeing things from a new perspective, getting a
different view on where I was as a way to determine where I would be going. I began to
shift my gaze. I looked up, glanced forward and stood looking ahead instead of hiding
in memory. This new way of walking was troublesome. I often stumbled, but continued
to push on. For I knew that if something seems new or difficult, it is surely worth
exploring.

In my most recent series of monotypes this looking up found new shapes and light within a canopy of leaves. I see interplay between layers of leaves, each one physically and conceptually affecting the other. Every layer maintains its’ own bounds while allowing pieces of the other layers to affect how each one appears. The whole is made stronger and more interesting because of the intermingle of its’ parts.

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