Why should our bodies end at the skin?

In my multimedia exhibition “Why should our bodies end at the skin?*” (2024), I explore the intersections of geology, mythologies, and intergenerational bonds. Sculptural works inhabit the studio from floor to ceiling, showcasing angular bent steel, vibrant flowing fabric, columnar pedestals, and symbolic vessels. Along with an immersive audio component, these elements comprise an installation inspired by ancient funeral artifacts, animist belief systems, and the volcanic landscape of the Philippines, my ancestral country.

I carry these themes into my principal sculptural element, where I considers the volcano as an uncontrollable force, interrupting and distorting boundaries, collapsing worlds, and rearranging time and space. In the center of the studio, I created a fantastical, exploding, inverted “volcano” made of black, bent, welded steel triangles that jut out of the ceiling like stalactites. Increasing in number as they approach the front of the studio, these shapes loom overhead to form an upside down mountain range that laterally spans the studio from front to back. Cascading from the ceiling down through the largest triangles are tumbling swaths of fuchsia and black cloth that blanket the studio floor.

Adjacent to the volcanic structure sits a collection of staggered, bright pink pedestals. Built to look like columnar basalt, they mirror the shape of a mountain in miniature while supporting a host of anthropomorphic ceramic vessels. Many of the ceramics also contain textile imprints from embroidered piña (pineapple fiber), clothing belonging to my father and grandmother. The vessels were originally inspired by ancient burial jars found in caves throughout the Philippines, created to honor the dead and their transition to the next life. These abstract works are an amalgamation of human, animal, and plant forms. Some vessels have faces that reference me and my family members; others refer to mythological Filipino animals or images of the okir, a precolonial plant-based design from the Southern Philippines.

Permeating the installation is a soundscape created in collaboration with Finnish composer, producer, and musician Lau Nau, which features field recordings including sounds from volcanoes, recordings of frequencies under the earth, me and my daughter’s heartbeat, metal bowls, ceramic shards, human whispers, and compositions from Nau’s synth.

*Title quote by Donna Haraway

Additional support for this exhibition was provided by the Finnish Cultural Foundation, which aided Lau Nau’s involvement, and The Canada Council for the Arts, which assisted with Jimenez’s travel and accommodations in Seattle.

**The poems heard are part of a larger body of work that wrestles with environmental degradation of the Pacific, histories of childhood sexual trauma, and conventional, western notions of masculinity. They trace an ongoingness of queer desire and love, with the liberation of Oceania and its diasporas told through multiple voices. The work utilizes motifs found in court documents and testimonies, memories of Guahan and the Pacific Northwest, stories from the poet’s grandparents, contemporary and modern art, and experiences with past and present lovers.

Special thanks to: Alison Milliman, Emily Kelly, Lance Milliman, Sarah Fetterman, Clayton Binkley, Juuli Haverinen, Nate Clark, Doclay, Nicholas Oh, Rey Hauser, Slowburn Dance, J.A. Dela Cruz Smith, Daniel Claiborne, Jason Schwartz, Red Noni, Lau Nau, Mauve Martineau, Katherine Weir, Ryan Van Der Hout, Kiddie Academy, Two Trees Cultural Space Subsidy Program, and Canada Council for the Arts’ Travel Grant