Jeanette Joy Harris
This is where I would cook you dinner
Because new homes feel like new beginnings, we believe that old memories and past mistakes can be forgotten in the walls, closets and secret places left behind. Despite new fixtures and hardwood floors we carry memories, feelings, and hopes as part of the new home’s foundation and structural integrity.
This is where I would cook you dinner visually demonstrates that despite the future-leaning of a new house, it always carries within it past lovers that cannot be left behind, present longings that cannot be articulated, and a future that cannot be anticipated. Past, present, and future love – exposed or not - leave an indelible mark on a seemingly content domestic future.
This action took place while I was alone in a house under construction. I wanted my actions to be found by the workers, forgotten as the construction process moved on, and then never seen by the owners. When I kissed the plywood and smeared away the outlines of my lips, the remnant looked similar to existent red spray paint. I was simply another construction material.
The kiss, then, serves as a possibility that will probably never occur as the location becomes a home but one that exists as part of its very skeleton.
Because new homes feel like new beginnings, we believe that old memories and past mistakes can be forgotten in the walls, closets and secret places left behind. Despite new fixtures and hardwood floors we carry memories, feelings, and hopes as part of the new home’s foundation and structural integrity.
This is where I would cook you dinner visually demonstrates that despite the future-leaning of a new house, it always carries within it past lovers that cannot be left behind, present longings that cannot be articulated, and a future that cannot be anticipated. Past, present, and future love – exposed or not - leave an indelible mark on a seemingly content domestic future.
This action took place while I was alone in a house under construction. I wanted my actions to be found by the workers, forgotten as the construction process moved on, and then never seen by the owners. When I kissed the plywood and smeared away the outlines of my lips, the remnant looked similar to existent red spray paint. I was simply another construction material.
The kiss, then, serves as a possibility that will probably never occur as the location becomes a home but one that exists as part of its very skeleton.
Jeanette “Joy” Harris is a Houston-based artist. She is interested in the intersection of performance and political dialogue. Joy’s practice is rooted in a curiosity and passion for information – academic, social, political, and economic. Research points her to challenging issues where she develops multi-discipline responses between thinkers, performers, and participants. Areas of inquiry include tolerance, urbanism, gentrification, justice, and democracy.
Joy completed her MscR in history of art at University of Edinburgh College of Art and her BA in government and philosophy at Texas Woman’s University. She has shown work in London, the Netherlands, Venice, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Miami, Chicago, and Houston. She has presented papers at University of Cambridge; University of Brighton; and University of Edinburgh. She has held residencies at the Hannah Arendt Institute at Bard College and work-shopped with International Performance Association in Venice. She has also written for multiple art publications.
Jeanettejoyharris.me
Joy completed her MscR in history of art at University of Edinburgh College of Art and her BA in government and philosophy at Texas Woman’s University. She has shown work in London, the Netherlands, Venice, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Portland, Miami, Chicago, and Houston. She has presented papers at University of Cambridge; University of Brighton; and University of Edinburgh. She has held residencies at the Hannah Arendt Institute at Bard College and work-shopped with International Performance Association in Venice. She has also written for multiple art publications.
Jeanettejoyharris.me