Delaney Engle

 
Delaney Engle
Delaney Engle
Delaney Engle
Delaney Engle
Delaney Engle
Delaney Engle
Delaney Engle
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FILL IN THE BLANK
Delaney Engle

Where do we go when our mind wanders? What is the landscape of our muscle-memorical unknown? How can I feel so much about something I haven’t experienced? Or that I lived through long ago? These are questions that have no answers, but the body remembers. Things get lodged in spaces we can’t see until we find another way of looking, or other people to look with. 

The sink in my house is clogged. Two sinks in my house are clogged. The kitchen sink is the most clogged. The clog is in my sink that’s in my kitchen. Wait. The clog in the landlord’s sink that’s in the landlord’s kitchen is clogged. The landlord’s sink in the landlord’s kitchen is clogged with a grapefruit rind that we found on a fruit hunt. We walked in the evening on hill after hill looking for fruits hanging over on sidewalks. 

The grapefruit rind went into my roommate’s juicer and prodded and pulped it’s way into a yummy juice drink that was a tad off because it wasn’t quite ripe yet. But still delicious. The rinds then got tossed down the garbage disposal. Not good. And were razored into more pulpy pieces, but the disposal wasn’t strong enough. The disposal had been around awhile, and wasn’t expecting this kind of invasion of space. The grapefruit refused to be cut up anymore than it had already been in the juicer. It cried, “No more!” It grabbed onto the edges for dear life and would never let itself be taken to the main drain in the landlord’s house. 

So it’s been resting in the pipe 10 feet into the wall, and it just won’t budge. 

We didn’t know this at first, and we snaked a wire into the sink, tossing it around, grating the edges, and hoping for a rind to come back to tell the tale. To no avail. 

We made way under the landlord’s sink and took apart the pipes ourselves, hoping to rescue the grapefruit peelings from their lodgings. We wrestled the pipes apart after years of being most tightly joined together. They were obviously quite close and had shared the most intimate of stories with one another. 

With a wrench we separated the lovers and made way with the snakey wire into the pipe leading to the back of the house. Nothing to find but black sludge and grime which coated our hands and souls. The pieces were haphazardly put back together, and involved some manipulation and readjustments to make it work. Although, we could never get it back to how it was before, and the leaks below as the water ran were obvious. The metal wire was upset because it couldn’t complete the one task it was put on this earth to do. We were also sad for this metal wire. And for ourselves. Anger and sadness are friends. One moment of carelessness leads to a lodging of something in the kitchen pipes which are in actuality our landlord’s pipes. And now the landlord’s, rental management agent’s plumbers will save us all. Sometimes one needs a little help.

***

Memories somehow seep out and updig deeper, or totally reimagine themselves

Through story and writing, Engle weaves together unresolved ideas of identity, origins, and belonging. She investigates memory and the way a body holds onto ideas of a person or experience. Further, Engle questions how these holdings mold the way we believe others see.

In describing complex realities through simpler means, Engle is able to narrow her focus on those aspects of life, things that feel day-to-day, and often go overlooked. Like an ant that lives in the house, or a whole collection of them. A drive that feels like any other, with so many things to get distracted by.

By piecing together imaginings, memories, and stories Engle seeks to fill in the gaps of knowing. Each piece builds up layering, pushes through confusion, and grasps for understanding while honoring uncertainty. In her video work, Engle tinkers with the glitch in memories. 

On paper, her gestures and marks meditate upon that remembering. Working with watercolor further allows for both the feeling of distance, as well as closeness to a subject or idea. 

Delaney Engle (b. 1995, Oregon) a multidisciplinary artist and writer, looks at life observationally- subjectively- emotionally. Engle currently lives and works in Los Angeles, California. She received her BFA from University of Oregon School of Journalism and Communications and will obtain her MFA from Otis College of Art & Design in Spring 2021.  

The Crash (2021)
8:08, Video 

The Crash (2021)
8:08, Video 

mind mapping #1 (2021)
93" x 57"
Watercolor, ink, acrylic, thread and acetate plastic on paper

mind mapping #2 (2021)
78" x 51.5"
Watercolor, ink, acrylic, thread and cloth on watercolor paper

mind mapping (detail)

mind mapping (detail)

Feeding the Line (2021)
50 pages, Book

Installation Shot

mind mapping #1 (2021)

mind mapping #2 (2021)

 I Read My Book From Beginning to End (2021)
45:43, Video