Julia Thompson

It was our little paradise (installation view), 2017 Tank of melted soap perfume bottles, video, fragrance

It was our little paradise (abstract)

My Past Paradise, Pink Punch perfume, 2017 Soap, perfume (smashed lemon, lemon skin, grenadine, vodka, Madeline's vomit, post-dance sweat) 1.5 in x 5.25 in x 1.5 in

My Past Paradise (installation view), 2017 Dimensions variable

Leftovers (detail shot), 2018 Candy coated floor (Sugar syrup substance, rotten fruit, leftover letters from Julia, damp linens, orange stale soda, a stomach full of uncertainty, smokey dry hair, silent conversation, picked off red nail polish, sweet sweat)

Leftovers, 2018 Installation View

Leftovers (installation view), 2018 Candy coated floor (Sugar syrup substance, rotten fruit, leftover letters from Julia, damp linens, orange stale soda, a stomach full of uncertainty, smokey dry hair, silent conversation, picked off red nail polish, sweet sweat)

Leftovers (detail shot), 2018 Candy coated floor

Leftovers (detail shot), 2018 Candy coated floor (Sugar syrup substance, rotten fruit, leftover letters from Julia, damp linens, orange stale soda, a stomach full of uncertainty, smokey dry hair, silent conversation, picked off red nail polish, sweet sweat)

Artist Statement

I work in sculpture, video, and installation, often employing materials that decay, harden, soften, move or transform. I reflect on the surprise of everyday experiences that conjure up a feeling once felt, of something distant yet familiar. At the crux of my work is the experience of time, investigating its qualities of freezing, stagnancy, and passing. These materials are ways I communicate a convergence of time, a resistance to a “linear reality.” My work expresses conflicts with time as something in and out of my control, in the ways it provides possibility of escape or interruption.

I am interested in the middle stage, or, the potential for something to happen. I investigate through materials that can change states – stick, melt, solidify – questioning if material forms can ever exhaust themselves. These unstable moments stemming from my everyday experiences ground my work; in response, my work serves as a testament to liminality.