Stains made from mugs are an accidental triumph of human intervention. No, they really are. Countless are the times where I have peered into a workstation – such as a set of desk spaces or a station overwhelmed by buttons and machinery – and been overjoyed by the sight of tea and coffee stains, or empty mugs and cups.
Why? Because I believe that a stain created by a mug penetrates the rhythm possessed by the banality found at such workstations. It sings from the surface and declares that life exists beyond structure and automaton. I would liken it to an analogue fist that smashes digital full in the face in order to make its presence felt.
Stains such as this reclaim human existence in the wake of rigid mechanics and schedule. They put a face to the faceless, a soul to the soulless. A stain like this should not be cleaned; it should be revered. It should be contemplated and it should be allowed to transcend its very being in order to be permanent and regarded in a qualitative way. Stains provide variance in sequence. They are a sting in a tail. They are a heart in a vessel. And most importantly, they provide a humane sense of relativity in a world seemingly bombarded with automated mechanics.
I seek to illuminate the innate joy found in discovering stains left by mugs. My work seeks to provide stains with a solidity that can be engaged with, quite opposite to the general disregard for such stains, which would otherwise be temporary and considered unwanted.