Title: Edging Comfort
Year: 2024
Materials: Wood, Nail, Glue, Foam mattress, My bedding (2 pillows and cases, sheet, blanket, duvet and cover), Candle stick, Candle stick holder, Harmonica, Magnesium vitamins, Lavender essential oil, Lemon balm extract, Half drank cup of tea, Oil diffuser, Various self-help and non-fiction books, Journals and sketchbooks from middle school to present, Fruit, vegetable, and flower seeds, Wax pen, Urgent notice bill, Pg&e bills, Parking tickets, My late grandfather’s oil paint and brushes, Pens, Pencils, Ceramics Tools, Vibrator, Textbooks, Sewing Machine, Scrap Fabric, Sewing Patterns, Keyboard, Roller Skates, Chamomile tea, Home grown lemon balm tea leaves, A Hammock, Slack-line, Tattoo ink, Pipe, School Clock, Old Broken Clock, Childhood Alarm Clock, Fan, Two Extension cords, My Laptop, Heating pad, Sneakers, Slippers
Dimensions: 10’x5’x7’ (Cite Specific)
Description: Edging Comfort is a site-specific installation built into the stairwell of the SFSU art building. The work brings together domestic objects, personal belongings, tools, archival materials, and remnants of everyday life, arranged within a wooden structure lined with bedding and foam. The space evokes a bedroom, a workspace, and a storage corner simultaneously, creating an environment that feels lived-in, familiar, and slightly unstable. Viewers encounter an accumulation of objects that carry emotional, practical, and symbolic weight, ranging from bills and textbooks to heirloom materials, seeds, journals, comfort aids, and tools of making.
The installation reflects on the negotiation between comfort and discomfort, stillness and urgency, rest and productivity. It mirrors the tension of trying to care for oneself while navigating expectation, survival, and growth. Through its intimate scale, personal artifacts, and layered histories, Edging Comfort becomes a portrait of a life in progress and a space where healing, avoidance, nostalgia, and daily maintenance coexist. The work asks how we create safety, how we hold memory, and what it means to build a soft place inside a world that rarely pauses long enough to allow rest.