In recent months, I’ve been diving into what is called experiential art. This kind of work invites audiences to become part of art, and in doing so, blurs the line between viewer and the piece itself. Unlike more traditional art forms, experiential art depends on a variety of senses as places are made. The way in which people move, feel, and interact cannot be fully captured in a photograph or booklet, and experiential art recognizes this. These kinds of works must be experienced. Writers like Kate Wellham place experiential art within the body of immersive practice. Such projects do not need to be permanent to carry meaning. Even if an experience is temporary or site-specific, it can deeply resonate.
A key aspect of my work is the idea of showing, not telling. Products and physical pieces might be replicated and distributed, but the magic of experiencing a place at a particular time with particular people is an experience that cannot be bottled and sold. My work focuses on creating these unique experiences that allow people to connect and reflect.
After identifying the practice of experiential art, I see more clearly the importance of my practice. I am not concerned with making objects to be sold. I strive to create experiences that will be remembered. Through these experiences, I hope those who encounter my work might be inspired to look for ways to remember the fragility and the beauty of belonging and the power of generosity.
This is why I am drawn to dinner parties. This form is experiential, and the dinner serves as both medium and message. Guests don’t simply observe. They are active participants, co-creating each event with me.
