My Artist Talk From "House ≠ Home" (BFA Honors Thesis Exhibition)
(Work made between December 2017 and November 2018)
Good afternoon everyone! My name is Ariane Crummer. I am a student at the university of New Mexico studying both Art with a focus in photography and Psychology. The past five and a half years I have spent living in Albuquerque and Santa Fe, but I grew up in Westchester County, New York just above the city.
I can’t tell you how many times people have said “wow this must be so different for you!” or I’ve gotten the question: “why would you come out HERE?” The short answer is that I came out here for school, but additionally, I wanted to experience new things and branch out from the community I grew up in.
My first year and a half were successful in those regards: I was living alone for the first time, across the country none the less, meeting new people, and trying new things. My parents then decided that we would pack up and move to Santa Fe.
When I chose to come to New Mexico, I knew I would be able to go back home over breaks to see my friends and family, which all gave me comfort. But, with this move, I realized that I would be leaving the place I grew up in and live 2,000 miles away from the place I called home. This was terrifying to me.
We officially moved to Santa Fe Thanksgiving of 2014 which made the move even harder because I was far away from those who I love during the holidays and would have to start to make new traditions in this new city.
The summer soon came and my family and I drove across the country back to New York. Seeing my friends and family, being back in my hometown, and eating as many bagels and slices of pizza as I could made me so happy. I felt like things were normal. But, those two weeks had to come to an end, and we drove back to New Mexico, uncertain when we’d be back.
Another year went by: I went to school and hung out with my friends, but I consistently counted down the days until I’d return home again.
During the summer of 2016, my family and I drove across the country again to New York and spent a couple of weeks there.
Upon returning, I had a lot of thoughts and emotions about coming back to New Mexico. Not only was I leaving my friends, but the man I loved in Albuquerque was getting ready to go to boot camp for the marines and would have minimal contact for three months. Leaving my friends to come back to a place where the most important person in my life would then be leaving was one of the most difficult things I’ve gone through.
While he was gone I had a big existential crisis, which at the time was completely overwhelming, but actually inspired me to make the work in this show you are seeing today.
At that time, I was very confused. I didn’t feel at home in New Mexico: I often felt out of place and misunderstood. But, after going back to New York that summer, I saw how much the place I called home had changed: the house I grew up had been renovated, various stores went out of business, and some friends moved. So really, even though I called New York home, those reasons I did had transformed, and made me question, do I have a home?
I really started to think what a home was. I have a real fascination with the way in which people present the place they call home. I think about, what makes this place so special to them? What did it look like before this? What will it become?
I created this grid of houses that I’ve photographed with the work of Bernd and Hilla Becker in mind.
The married couple, who coincidentally studied at UNM, are typologist photographers that would choose a certain subject and photograph tons of them in a similar fashion resulting in a grid that compares them all.
These photographs are taken throughout New Mexico, Arizona, Colorado, and New York. Seeing this big collection of houses is interesting to me because of the “simple” concept of a house can result in so many variations. It makes me also think about how someone can feel so at home in a space, but it not evoke the same feeling in others.
The way in which I chose to orient the gallery reflects my general understanding of what a home should be and should include, as well as what I think makes a home.
You’ll see there are different areas in the gallery made to reflect a living room, a kitchen, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Again, while this seems homey to me, it might not to others.
When I think of a home, I think of being comfortable in sweatpants and cuddling up on the couch with my dog. I also think of the place I go to in my best of times and worst of times. I think of being vulnerable, yet safe.
If there’s any lesson that falling in love has taught me is that you can find home in people. Not necessarily in a romantic partner, it could be a family member, or friend.
More often than not, since that summer, I’ve felt more at home because of certain people, and the place has been irrelevant.
When I was thirteen, I went to see a broadway play with my mom and grandmother called “in the heights” written by Lin Manuel Miranda.
The plot takes place in Washington Heights, a Hispanic-American neighborhood in upper Manhattan. Usnavi, the main character is a bodega owner who looks after Grandma Claudia, not his actual grandmother but a Cuban lady next door.
Usnavi falls in love with Vanessa, the beautiful girl working in the neighboring beauty salon and who dreams of winning the lottery and escaping to the shores of his native Dominican Republic.
Meanwhile, Nina, a childhood friend of Usnavi’s, has returned to the neighborhood from her first year at college with surprising news for her parents, who have spent their life savings on building a better life for their daughter.
Ultimately, the residents of the this close-knit neighborhood, after a tragic event, come together and realize home is where the people you love are.
Ten years since seeing the show, I still listen to the soundtrack to remind myself that I can have home in both New Mexico and New York because of the people I love.
A number of those people are featured in the environmental portraits on the walls. These people provide me with a support, a place to go when something good or bad happens, let me be vulnerable, and I feel comfortable with.
Before I conclude my talk, I want to thank you all for coming out this evening: you being here assures me that I have support in what I’m doing.
While I would love to go around thanking everyone specifically, I know you’d all be annoyed with me by the end. However, I do need to thank my committee: my chair, professor Jim Stone as well as my other two committee members professor Meg Gould and Szu Han Ho. You all have been so helpful and supportive throughout this whole process. You push me to be the best I can be and I can’t thank you enough.
I need to thank my parents for their unending amounts of love and support.
Lastly, I need to thank someone who is a constant source of inspiration, support, motivation, and love. She talks me out of my periods of self-doubt, which is a lot, and always wants me to be happy. This person is my peer and best friend, Leila Murrieta. Thank you for all you do!
Please enjoy the exhibition and refreshments. If anyone has any questions I will be around the rest of the evening! Have a good night!