My graduating senior work.
This was developed in response to the North Carolina Bathroom Bill.
A lawmaker stated that (and I’m paraphrasing), “Trans women are male predators who are going to put on dresses and sneak into female restrooms”.
Horse shit.
Being trans is a lifetime commitment to consuming an endless parade of prescription drugs, therapists, blood work, endocrinologists, and discrimination.
Anyone who goes through the process of transition does not take this lightly.
For me, it was life or death.
I reached a day that I knew I could take no steps further, and if I didn’t do this, I would have killed myself.
So I did the math. Seeing as I go through two pill bottles a month, from the moment of this ideas inception, how many would I have to consume to reach the age 90?
The answer is 1,440.
This cubes nicely into a 10′ x 10′ x 10′ volume, using 2″ of space between each bottle.
I sourced my bottles from a biomed company and spent the next few months tediously drilling and assembling line after line of bottles.
The resulting work is a monument to my life, suspended in space, and what it entails going forward from that very moment in time.
In a way, I’ve created a bit of a macabre calendar for myself.
I wish to hang this again and once every month, with fanfare, I will cut down two of the bottles.
I am now counting down to my death.
