Domesticated animals eat feed. Day after day, the farmer fills the trough with the same oats, the same feed. As we lie in sleep, our sidecars charge, our prostheses: computers, tablets, smartphones. Receptacles for the news feeds, charging to accommodate relentless scrolling throughout the day. Everywhere, silently revving for the coming feeding.
No longer can I look past the reality that my annual voluntary forfeiture of money to my government pays for violence around the globe, at astounding levels, and I am not able to provide any more excuses or rationalizations that paying without protest, that being complicit in funding war without resistance, is not contradictory to my faith and to my conscience.
In both style and substance, Joan Wulf's artistic practice exists at a poetic nexus of nature and science. Her art has stemmed largely from her observations of the environment, both as an independent, self-governing system of matter and energy, and as an interdependent context for a range of cultural, scientific, philosophical, and industrial human activity.