Amy Globus


There's a moment somewhere between the conceptual development of a piece and the actual production of the work when I honestly doubt the possibility of its existence. It's that moment when I feel as if I'm nine months pregnant and a sonogram has just revealed that I'm minutes away from giving birth to an alien. I want nothing more than to keep it in my body and deny it life, but I know that it will inevitably come out. This picture captures that shocking, if not painful, inflection point during the final days of my preparation for a solo show at D'Amelio Terras Gallery in Chelsea. In the right foreground is a tank I used to grow crystals in for eighteen months for sculptures entitled Chantilly Lace (Skeletons 1, 2, & 3). I'm sitting uncomfortably on the platform next to an unfinished sculpture titled Crystal Lake for an Endless Wait, slightly eclipsed by the covered carcass of a bison sculpture that simply wasn't ready for public consumption. Although I made it to the opening with a healthy stable of work, this picture captures me and all my underdone thoughts in a cold, dimly lit studio at the very moment I wanted to decimate it all. It was 10 a.m.