I see these natural formations of dying and falling trees and they conjure up images and feelings of a theatrical, dramatic, gestural woman. I make these associations with what I keep coming back to, the antiquated term of the hysterical woman. I see my interior self in the formations, the lines, the hard edges, incontrollable and overwrought, yet it grows in defiance and settles in with its weight. It’s the self that is visible only when explored in the depth of a thicket.

I’m also thinking about tension, with materials that extend and stretch before they snap. The tension between two things, two moments, two angles. Materials that are part natural, part industrial, and in their degradation reveal their softness.

The title of this piece is from a book by French physiologist Paul Richer, who studied and wrote about female hysteria in the late 1800's.