The Gaze-ette
The Gaze-ette
Screenprints, letterpress on newspaper dispenser
2024
After arriving in Rochester, NY I learned that Monroe Avenue, where the art center I was a resident at, has a reputation for being a "bad" part of town. Many visitors complained about the neighborhood, a person joked it's a miracle I haven't been murdered, and a local neighborhood coalition has transparent aims of displacing the people living there to boost property value. Many of Monroe Avenue’s residents are Black, in pain, and seeking relief with opioids. The lack of healthcare and housing is obvious, yet outsiders fear they're the ones in danger. The Gaze-ette attempts to confront the gazer judging Monroe Avenue's residents.
Stocked inside a repurposed newspaper dispenser, The Gaze-ette is “your source for immediate information on Monroe Avenue," referring to the immediacy of sensory experience. To collect the sounds featured on the outside of The Gaze-ette, I transcribed the environmental noises at nearby street intersections. Building on the cartoon trope of spying on people through a newspaper, The Gaze-ette additionally invites the reader to put their nose and mouth into cut holes. These holes are in the shape of a sailboat that rides on stormy waves. In my own struggles with depression, I've found it useful to think of the mind as an ocean where violence may reign at the surface, but below there is a calm; The Gaze-ette suggests paying attention to one’s senses is a tool for finding that calm, to help mitigate feeling overwhelmed. I think the act of "watching waves" of pain and discomfort is relevant both for the resident struggling, and the outsider judging.
The Gaze-ette was made during a residency at Flower City Arts Center. Special thanks to Michaela Chan, Julia J. Wolfe, Jacob Dambra, L Goldstein, Cronan Kobylak, and Charlie Manion