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M. Warner works in sculpture, photography, and video, between presence and absence.  She is a queer mixed media artist who makes landscapes of loss. As a queer artist, she explores memory and loss as necessary elements of survival.  Mourning her losses and reconciling with the world as it is, M. Warner makes work to satisfy the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest.

Memories pile up on the margins of her mind like debris from ancient shipwrecks. She can cast those stories back into the sea, but they will always wash ashore again, again, again, unwanted. M. Warner works to make sense of her own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss. She believes that myths and stories give us worlds we can locate ourselves in, and she is building worlds where she can find herself. Or maybe she is drafting maps to the places she has lost herself.

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I make landscapes of loss. I believe that myths and stories give us worlds we can locate ourselves in, and I am building worlds where I can find myself. Or maybe I am drafting maps to places I have lost myself.

Memories pile up on the margins of my mind like debris from ancient shipwrecks. I can cast those stories back into the sea, but they will always wash ashore again, again, again, unwanted. I work in sculpture, photography, and video, between presence and absence. 

As a queer artist, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival.  I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the tightness in my chest. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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I make landscapes of loss. I believe that myths and stories give us worlds we can locate ourselves in, and I am building worlds where I can find myself. Or maybe where I can lose myself. Or maybe where I have lost myself.

Memories pile up on the margins of my mind like debris from ancient shipwrecks. I can cast those stories back into the sea, but they will always wash ashore again, again, again, unwanted. I work in sculpture, photography, and video, creating a dialogue between presence and absence. 

As a queer artist, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival in this world.  I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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It is 93 days until my next show where I plan to show 2 large works. One will be “We walk in circles”, and the other will be a video installation piece based on videos of taken of projections inside a camera obscura. I am building my third camera obscura—it is harder to do than I thought or hoped it would be. And I need to build my path for the installation in the gallery. My landscapes are overwhelming me.

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I don’t make work because I am afraid. I don’t walk in circles because I am afraid of what I will find at the end of the path. I don’t take pictures of the moonset because I am afraid of the dark.

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I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the tightness in my chest. I make work because I take the Gospel of Thomas literally. I make work to prevent the tightness in my chest from destroying me.

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I make landscapes of loss. I believe that myths and stories give us worlds we can locate ourselves in, and I am building worlds where I can find myself. A place where loss makes sense and grief rests.

Memories pile up on the margins of my mind like debris from ancient shipwrecks. I can cast those stories back into the sea, but they will always wash ashore again, again, again, unwanted. I work in sculpture, photography, and video, creating a dialogue between presence and absence. 

As a queer artist, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival in this world.  I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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I make landscapes of loss. I believe that myths and stories give us worlds we can locate ourselves in, and I am building worlds where I can find myself. A place where loss makes sense and grief rests.

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According to her artist statement, M. Warner’s photography-into-sculpture work, “At a Loss,” embodies memories returning to her that may or may not “return for good.” In what ways does her work embody “the return of the repressed”? In this context, how might we interpret the washing away of the limbs by the ocean and the ambiguity of a "return for good”?

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In her artist statement, Mary Warner undertakes to recreate the idea of memory by revisiting the repetitive and reflective nature of memory. Warner points out at the work “At a Loss” repeats the idea of the clay limb as visual metaphor, projecting the image of limbs on a limb, which she describes in language that both repeats itself as in “again, again, again” and also in the idea of pieces of a shipwreck that began ashore and continually return to the shore.

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I make landscapes of loss, but the best of those iterate themselves. Repeat. Fracture and repeat again. A metaphor. A metonym.

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At the first large showing of “At a Loss,” my fellow artist’s aunt walked up to me and asked if “At a Loss” was mine. “I find it so moving, but I don’t know why,” she said as she searched my face for an answer. “Same,” I thought. I am still looking for the answer.

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I make landscapes of loss. As a queer person and a parent of queer and trans kids, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival in this world.  Memories pile up on the margins of my mind like debris from ancient shipwrecks. I can cast those stories back into the sea, but they will always wash ashore again, again, again, unwanted. I work in sculpture, photography, and video, creating a dialogue between presence and absence. 

For my piece “We walk in circles,” I am walking in circles until I make a path and inviting my community to join me in the walking. In that joining, they become authors of our shared path. Our shared path is intended to echo the way we shape the world around us. The world is no more and no less than what we have made it. We walk the same paths; we revisit the same losses.

I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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I make landscapes of loss. As a queer person and a parent of queer and trans kids, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival in this world.  I work in sculpture, photography, and video, creating a dialogue between presence and absence. 

For my piece “We walk in circles,” I am walking in circles until I make a path and inviting my community to join me in the walking. In that joining, they become authors of our shared path. Our shared path is intended to echo the way we shape the world around us. The world is no more and no less than what we have made it.

I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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I make landscapes of loss. As a queer person and a parent of queer and trans kids, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival in this world.  I work in sculpture, photography, and film, creating a dialogue between presence and absence. 

For my piece “We walk in circles,” I am walking in circles until I make a path and inviting my community to join me in the walking. In that joining, they become authors of our shared path. Our shared path is intended to echo the way we shape the world around us. The world is exactly what we have made it, no more or less.

I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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I make landscapes of loss. As a queer person and a single parent of queer and trans kids, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival in this world.  I work in sculpture, photography, and film, creating a dialogue between presence and absence. 

For my piece “We walk in circles,” I am walking in circles until I make a path and inviting my community to join me in the walking. In that joining, they become authors of our shared path. Our shared path is intended to echo the way we shape the world around us. The world is exactly what we have made it, no more or less.

I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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I make landscapes of loss. As a queer person and a single parent of queer and trans kids, I explore memory and loss as necessary elements of survival in this world.  I work in sculpture, photography, and film, creating a dialogue between presence and absence. 

For my piece “We walk in circles,” I am walking in circles until I make a path and inviting my community to join me in the walking. In that joining, they become authors of our shared path. Our shared path is intended to echo the way we shape the world around us. The world is exactly what we have made it, no more or less.

I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest. I am mourning my losses and reconciling with the world as it is. I create art to make sense of my own shifting world, but also to build a space to commune with others navigating their own landscapes of loss.

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I make landscapes of loss. My grief transforms me, and I transform the landscapes I live in. I make work to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest.

For my ongoing project, “We walk in circles,” I am walking a circular path into the grass of a public park through repeated, solitary walking. It is a slow, sustained performance that acts as a portrait of grief and survival. Rather than searching for a resolution, this work embraces meaning and the meaningless. As a path forms, I will invite members of my community to join me in my walking and to become fellow authors of this path.

I work in mixed media, using sculpture, projection, found objects, and photography, to make tangible representations of loss and moving on. To try to make sense of the insensible. To reconcile with the world.

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I make landscapes of loss. My grief transforms me, and I transform the landscapes I live in. I makes pictures to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest.

I work in mixed media, using sculpture, projection, found objects, and photography, to make tangible representations of loss and moving on. To make sense of the insensible. To reconcile with the world.

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I make landscapes of loss. My grief transforms me and the landscapes I live in. I makes pictures to satisfy the lump in my throat and the constriction in my chest.

I work in mixed media, using sculpture, projection, found objects, and photography, to make tangible representations of loss and moving on. To try to make sense of the insensible. To reconcile with the world.