Fragments are partial pieces of information. I place fragments in two different categories: whole and partial. Whole fragments deliver enough evidence to provide insight into their broader context, such as slices of a tree trunk. Some fragments remain homeless and unanchored. They withhold their origins and require more investigation to understand. I consider these partial fragments. A moment, a shadow, and a fragment all reflect the same principle existing in different forms. Each belongs to a larger whole (time, light, physical object) and provides an incomplete image of their source.

These pieces are made through melting material combinations, mostly glass formers, into a substrate, mostly made of plaster. During the kiln firing, the melted materials interact with the substrate, sometimes pushing through and forming tributaries into it. To reveal what lies embedded within the plaster, I excavate the context away. What is hidden below is then revealed, but then the origin is lost. If I keep the bedding, what is embedded within remains unseen. The fired plaster is fragile and will only endure limited handling before it begins to crumble. Sometimes the materials interact in new ways or melt through the bedding to the ceramic shell that encases the plater. Then the objects must be more aggressively broken to see within. I can then see striations inside of the material and how it paused as it cooled.

Fragments: whole and Partial

Singular Fragments

For a while, I have been interested in the notion of a whole fragment. This
fragment is not
one in which one laments a lost whole, as in Stein, Eliot, and Pound, but
which acknowledges the fact
of our unhandsome condition, where we suffer from having been being, and
in that
acknowledgement foreground what is: the abraded and indefinite
accumulation of an infinite dispersal of sums...

-Poet Ann Lauterbach