The Self-Portrait series was made as a way to process the daily reminder of my own mortality but also as a way to grieve the loss of both of my Grandmothers. They were extremely proper women, the kind to wear white gloves, the kind you never saw cry, sweat or yell. I am none of these things. I loved my Grandmothers but their Irish Catholic upbringings meant that many things were left unsaid, many secrets never revealed. I make this work in rebellion, spilling my guts out for me but also for Jane and Eileen.
Kayte Terry’s work examines the literal and figurative boundaries of the body. Through photography, video, collage, installation and object-making, Kayte unravel issues of illness, memory, dysmorphia, longing and loss. The patchwork of materials she uses form a personal language that speaks to the fuzzy intersection of personal desires and cultural expectations.
Kayte studied Art History and Women’s Studies at Simon’s Rock College of Bard and is an MFA Candidate for Studio Art at University of the Arts. She has also studied abroad at the School for International Training in Fortaleza, Brazil and at the Santa Reparata International School of Art in Florence, Italy. Kayte has been in group shows in New York, NY; Philadelphia, PA and Seattle, WA and is looking forward to participating in the show Adorned: Beauty in Excess at Joy Pratt Markham Gallery at the Walton Arts Center in Fayetteville, AK this Spring.
Poked & Pinned
Kayte Terry, 2016
Kayte Terry, 2015
My work examines the literal and figurative boundaries of the body. Through photography, video, collage, installation and object-making, I unravel issues of illness, family, memory, longing and loss. As a woman living with a cluster of auto-immune diseases, I’m interested in both making the invisible illness visible and finding beauty in pain and mutation. I want people to see my work as a celebration of a beautiful body in chaos.
My body is a daily reminder of the precipice between life and death. I’ve been diabetic since adolescence. My fingertips reveal a constellation of scars from testing my blood sugar. High, low, normal, just a tiny little prick and a tiny drop of blood is a life-saving measure. I find myself addicted to the ritual, and wish that my state of being could be so easily be measured in one number.
In Poked & Pinned I mimic the ritual, transforming an act that's rarely seen into one that must be seen. As I sew finger to finger, the work becomes an amusement, like a game of cat's cradle. What was once, for me, one of the many drudgeries we diabetics carry like a noose around our necks shifts into an act of control: a reclamation of my body.