Sophia Kate Jacoby

My practice takes up space, it exhausts itself emotionally, and tears its own heart out. Obsessions and emotions are pinned down temporarily or cut up and recreated.

It is a way of finding my voice and looking back before moving forward. I obsess over ideas of the ‘Angel’. The Angel is always leaving, always laughing cruelly, she moves from room to room when I try to talk to her, she can only create once everything else is destructed.

I will make art until there is nothing left in me to be spoken of, until every wall is filled. By creating I get closer to understanding myself, and what brought me to this place. I am unpacking my baggage into the only place it can exist freely. I am not afraid to be excessive, instinctive, or reclaim space.

Through dysfunctional, pointy, bulky constructed frames I contradict the domestic space in which the women before me existed. They were always the last to sit down at the table.