More and more I’m living life in quiet. Driving in quiet. Walking in quiet. Making art in quiet. Within me there’s an inner-instrument I rely on, a compass with a sensitive needle that can so easily get knocked off balance. When I turn down the noise and find my way back to a true north is when I find that I take more chances with my work.
As I hold up my studio practice to the world at large, I wonder how or if it contributes to the greater good. As social progress continues to stall and unravel, I ask myself “what is mine to do?”. At first, this reclamation of my attention by way of quiet was a coping mechanism, a tactic to clear the frequency between me and the work that knocks at the door of my subconscious. Now, though, showing up, paying attention, and letting go of outcomes feels like acts of subversion.
During my six month @HOME Residency with studioELL, I noticed each week the rhythms of my studio and where I put my focus. My studio is in a den that was added on to the back of my house in the 1960s. By presenting the work for Edges, Corners, Trees in the nooks and crannies of my home, which over the last twenty years have become extensions of my studio, I hope the quiet of my day to day life comes through.
— Melissa Dunn, 2025