Denver had not become the booming metropolis it is now back in the 80s, but it was dotted with a few key spots that captured the crit and alternative scene that laid the groundwork for this scene today. Rock Island was a Denver icon and anyone who was in Denver in the 80s and 90s will see the logo and immediately be transported back to the raw feel, scenery and sound of the time.
The key to Denver’s future is opening our minds to new horizons and ideas. My piece talks about that in abstract futuristic surrealism.
ON DISPLAY: Gem Food Mart, 2958 N Downing St
As a Denver native, I’ve watched the explosive growth of Denver with excitement and trepidation. I fear that Denver’s multicultural history is being whitewashed by the influx of new construction and money, at the expense of our historic homes and neighborhoods.
Since moving to Denver, I’ve gone through short bursts of creativity between work and other “adult” obligations. My sewing machine is one of my most treasured possessions and I love coming back to it, no matter how infrequent or small the episode.
During the making of my "Small Statement,” I was thinking about how under-considered development of Denver’s built landscape often obliterates history of significant architectural, cultural and social value. The antique contents of the diorama—a turn-of-the-century licorice tin, handmade nicho, rosary beads, Art Nouveau medallion, dried boutonnière, locust specimen—are symbolically meant to feel funereal, mournful … inexorable loss in the face of beauty.
Development across Denver is happening at lightning speed, and it’s racing to keep up with the influx of people…but only for those who can pay to play. Meanwhile, the heart of those rooted here is getting buried, making it difficult to get ahead.