Entry Fee

2022

Poplar, cardboard, muslin mache, brass fixtures, soldered brass welding rod, doormat, string lights, mud

How do we contend with external validation? What about self-sabotage? These were the questions I chewed on as I conceived this piece.

For me, this crooked, 8-foot-tall door into the sky, is a piece of self portraiture, speaking to the ways we fool ourselves, unknown potential, outsourcing self-respect, self-love, and self-confidence.

When we rely on others to fulfill these needs (self-respect, self-love, self-confidence), we create a false sense of security. A facade of short-lived positivity, it’s hollow, fragile, and prone to collapse.

This outsourcing of self is sometimes the only (seemingly effective, but really just temporary) method of counteracting the way we see ourselves: too loud or too quiet, too dramatic, too fat, too boring, too much, not enough, stupid, ugly, annoying, clumsy, a bad person, a fool, an obstacle, an extra, a doormat…

That burst of joy or pleasure we get from external validation exists because we crave validation in areas we don’t believe in ourselves. That’s that outsourcing of trust in action. It quickly fades when we recall that “our friends and our family are just being nice to us” or that “maybe they say that to everyone” or that “they don’t really know the context of the situation,” the “context” of course, being your life.

What might come of it if we find the capacity to believe in these things we so often try to outsource belief in? What might become of us? There’s no substitute for the real thing: self-acceptance is a home–or maybe a door.

I see all of this in Entry Fee, with, of course, the context of my life (and the research and experience I poured into it). I don’t expect others to see all (or maybe any) of this, but I hope it tickles your curiosity.