Bachelard's Panty Drawer is a radio show hosted by me (as Mammal In Crime) on Freeform Portland - 90.3 FM. The show is 1/3 conversation with guest artists/writers/musicians/UPS Drivers/and whoever else) and 2/3 music. All shows are theme based and conversation and playlists are based on those themes.
A free service dedicated to preserving the various territories of unconditional and unconventional love.
On February 20, 2017 I joined several Portland artists and activists at Performance Works NorthWest/Linda Austin Dance for an evening of UnPresidented Acts. Dancer, artistic director, and choreographer Linda Austin curated the event, with drag artist Pepper Pepper as the evening’s host. Over two dozen artists gathered to perform everything from monologues to poems to films to Weird Allan Kaprow karaoke to rage hair combing. At one point, the assembled group collectively called Trump Tower to fire the president-in-chief. The artist lineup included Honey LeFleur, Anna Vo and Ary Lavallee, Button Will, Carla Rossi, Pepper Pepper, Ken Yoshikawa, Linda Austin, Danielle Ross, Tere Mathern, Mike Treffehn, Jin Camou, Cyndy Chan, Meg McHutchinson, Tamara Lynne, Katie Piatt and Mel Haywood, and Claire Barrera. The words of Audre Lorde, Zoe Leonard, and Eileen Myles were screened and read aloud. The event raised funds for three Portland local nonprofits: Q Center, Don’t Shoot Portland, and El Programa Hispano.
The nose is a wondrous tool. With just a few sniffs, in relatively intimate settings (busses, waiting rooms, post offices, etc.) we become more familiar with each other, whether we like it or not. In this ongoing project, I invite people to smell me as I smell them, to push our personal boundaries, to question social taboos and allow us to explore our inner animals. All participant's noses are photographed for simplistic documentation and sniffing logs chart overall responses and associations of all sniffed body parts.
If you are interested in partaking in this olfactory exchange, please email me.
A collection of my dreams and the images I've Googled from them.
I let the water run. While doing dishes. While brushing my teeth. While standing in the shower on those dark, cold early mornings. I turn the faucet on and off. On and off. There isn’t a lot of thought that goes into this movement. It’s part of a larger, sleepy, domesticated choreography, like putting keys in my pocket, pulling socks over my feet or opening the refrigerator door. I barely notice asking my hands to do the turning on and off. Yet it's nourishing me. It’s cleaning me, feeding me, hydrating me. These little actions I barely pay attention to are a large part of why I exist, why everything exists. So, for one month, each day, I chose to focus. Every time I turned the faucet on, I made a note of it. The water I used was measured, logged and photographed. Concurrent to logging my water usage, I placed ten yellow buckets outside to catch rain water. It was my hope to slowly replenish a water supply I too quickly depleted.
Process Mundane is an ongoing series of emails designed to help those who face daily drudgery take a more microscopic look at their drudge. Gleaning inspiration from self help evangelism, Allan Kaprow and Alan Watts, Process Mundane takes a deeper look into the roots of monotonous tasks, evaluates each task, and offers people alternative ways of performing each task. The end goal for Process Mundane is to give a sense of play and creativity to the particularly lackluster moments most people tend to forget about.
This project originally began as a motivational seminar first performed at the 2012 Open Engagement Conference.
An exploration of my own physicality through the eyes and algorithms of Google.
Click on the images to see them larger.
From June 15th through August 3rd 2013 at Place White Gallery.
Internal Server Error was an intensive survey of my personal web usage. In A Short History of a Browser, I hand-drafted my daily web history every night for a month. Writing down each place I'd gone to online somehow connected me back to those moments I would have otherwise forgotten.
For Offline, I compiled dictionaries, encyclopedias, phone books, notebooks, user manuals, old letters, junk mail, maps, mixed tapes, manuals, take out menus, photos, paper bills, and post-it notes to create a tactile version of my internet usage. This piece was a homage to paper and all things analogue.
Questions came up for me in this process: How have I changed since I started using the web? How has my communication with others shifted? How can my body adapt to sitting for long periods of time or looking down at a phone? How am I retaining information that I read on the web as opposed to reading things in print? How much time am I spending on the interweb and what am I looking at? What sites do I visit more frequently and why am I drawn to visiting them? What is it that draws me to Facebook and other forms of social media? What internet force has me by the balls, and will I ever be able to set them free?
There has been a huge influx of graphic inspirational and literary quotes peppering the interweb in the last couple of years. Check out an example of what it is I'm referring to HERE.
In response to this, I'm experimenting with mundane phrases to explore whether or not the words will have more significance when graphic elements are added to the text.
This is an ongoing project that began in 2013.
Pulling color from the unexpected
Stand up. Open the door. Go outside.
These pieces are part of an ongoing series of found collages comprised of torn magazine pages, piled up ephemera, and layered and frayed advertisements on city walls. The collection, titled PAPER, examines pop cultural notions of feminine beauty through the lens of fashion and advertising.
Please contact Heidi Mcbride & CO for prices and availability.
My part of a stellar group show (Five) June 18th through August 14th 2011 at PLACE PDX
From outside it's glass doors, De-consume was set up to mirror a high end boutique, yet its interior exhibited objects, smells and actions not usually found in stores. Glass containers filled with mud, hair, junk mail, pebbles, old underwear, chicken, goat feces, styrofoam, dust, plastic lids, moss, and other disposable or compostable goods sat upon shelves. Anatomically correct nude suits (two female and two male) hung from a wardrobe rack. Small jars containing an array of found tinctures sat on display ready to be sniffed akin to a perfume counter at a department store. Non-verbal sounds such as coughing, sighing, breathing, yowling, belching, and digesting could be absorbed through a pair of headphones.
Along with the installation, there were three store events:
1. A simple meal (a raw - and freshly plucked from an organic garden - finger feast) Pictures to the right.
2. Sniffing booth - where willing participants sniff me as I sniff them - is an ongoing olfactory project that was incorporated into the De-Consume show. You can read more about Sniffing Booth HERE.
3. Mud roll (My 7 months pregnant ass and other participants rolled/played around in mud). Pictures and video to the right.
A temporary (and no longer available) website for this piece was designed to run in tandem with the exhibit.
An ongoing project that addresses the arduousness of various domestic activities many of us face every day in America. The project was inspired a few years ago after facing a pile of dishes in the sink upon returning home from a long day at work. As I was wringing out the sponge with fatigued hands I thought to myself I could really use some backup. I envisioned three ladies singing to me while I did the chores, as I shopped for groceries, as I sat in traffic. They would act as subliminal cheerleaders rooting me on in every mundane task I’d have to encounter. A couple of months later, the fantasy was brought to life. I hired three anonymous craigslist backup singers/strangers who accompanied me to the grocery store. Each of them received fifty dollars and a list of groceries they sang aloud to me as I meandered through the aisles.
A year later I found three more backup singers to back me up while I did a single load of laundry at the laundromat. On the day of the performance, one of my trusty backups singers called in sick, so I had to take on the role of backup singer number three. As strangers and friends washed and dried their clothes, we sung and sweat and spun on laundry carts for an entire 46 minutes.
Eventually, three more backup singers accompanied me through rush hour traffic. The night was dark and drizzly and the traffic slow moving - perfectly miserable and mundane conditions for soulful backup.
One year later and nine months pregnant, I hired three more singers to sing to me while doing domestic chores around the house.
A free emotional garbage disposal service.
On May 24th, 2009, in the incomparable city of Da Nang, Vietnam I married myself. Three bridesmaid/friends, Stella, Amanda, and Karen were there to root me on. These are the pages from my quintessentially Vietnamese wedding album.
Sounds by me. Sounds by others sung by me. Sounds of sounds.
Most sounds recorded on cheap equipment and in unusual settings.
If you would like me to cover a song, send me a note and I'll pop it on the request list.
The web is a treasure chest. Type a few magical words into google, and presto, you have a vast collection of intrigue to ogle.
Some of the beds I've slept in over the last few years.
Collaborative paintings between myself and my main squeeze MTH.
Scenes from the infamous Jersey Shore. August 2009 ©ff
My main squeeze and I celebrated our marriage by creating naked pinata versions of ourselves, stuffing them with things relating to our past, (dirt, flowers, pork and beans, ramen noodles, wine, beer, dollars, and sparkle) blindfolding each other, and busting them open with sturdy sticks. But before the turmoil began, we allowed our pinata selves to get down and dirty - mammal style.
A self portrait series exploring the emotional relation(s), response(s), and reaction(s) to myself.
A well-traveled hair piece.
three things I have found on the ground in one day's time.
Object portraits from Vietnam
Portraits of myself and others eating and drinking.
These are 5 out of 100 faux business cards I have handed out to strangers.
Most were complimentary, and some (depending on the stranger) were rude.
Here I assessed and documented my emotional state each day for one week.
A performative book about toxicity and nourishment. If you are interested in seeing the book in its entirety, please email me.
Forecast, with Vanessa Connelly, is a tongue and cheek satire about global warming.
Sisyphus Plus is an ongoing interactive performance piece I initially conceptualized to raise hunger awareness nationwide.
So far the ball has been pushed through parts of NYC, Vermont, and Pennsylvania. Soon a few comrades and I will be conquering the skinny part of Idaho too.