I create platforms for experience. I subvert domestic objects like chairs and lights to cultivate everyday magic. I explore the space between people and architecture: making a place for the body amidst gigantic buildings on the street of NY and finding new ways to occupy pedestrian space.

Growing up on an island and swimming between two blues daily, I recall an eternal yearning, never fulfilled, for the unobstructed horizon. In New York, traffic flows between corridors of endless vertical height. I shift my gaze skywards because the horizon has already been conquered. I am thinking about making: balloons, clouds, umbrellas, and confetti.

The quest for the horizon is a bed, an unreachable, horizontal dreamland of vacation islands where water and sky touch freely. Only sailors and sunset interrupt this line of blue against blue with myth and poetry. The vertical reach of cities, like the upright character of waking life, slaps neighborhoods awake in construction’s eternal quest for clouds: vacancies appear only upwards, above and on top.

Lonely horizons are levitating bodies in beds, beds filled mostly by ones not twos. City buildings stand in crowds barred by streets, with so many not-slanted, flat roofs collecting and evaporating because where would the water go? The anonymous intimacy of subway mornings with sleeping fists gathered, gripping, piled on totem-pole-of-hands railings. I am looking for eye contact.

Artist website: http://carolinewoolard.blogspot.com