The JFK Papers
The viewer does not need to know that these sheets of paper are made from the pants and shirt I wore on the day that John Fitzgerald Kennedy was assassinated. This is of significance only to me, that is, the inclusion of my personal attire into the paper.
The murder was an ordeal for the nation, it goes without saying.
That I kept the clothing I wore to school that day, the oxford blue dress shirt and khaki trousers, would mean nothing to someone not aware of the event. Along the way the tie and blazer were misplaced. I did not think to save the socks and underwear.
Why did I keep this clothing? Why did many Americans save the front page of the newspapers? I suppose, by proxi, my shirt and pants represent a state of being frozen in time. Those who were old enough to remember knew exactly where they were and what they were doing at the instant they were told of the tragedy. Again, my saved clothing means nothing to the viewer, but is my personal entry point, a portal, into my work and into the influence I ascribe to things that literally touch me.
When I value my art making materials, my handmade paper and concocted paint, I am at very least inspired by the value of my investment. I would not feel so connected if the paper and paint were bought at a store. The resulting art is not so casual when the materials are of importance to me.
I kept only the shirt and trousers worn on that particular day. I did not save anything else relating to the event. My parents kept the newspapers. This paper means something to me. It is a point in time. There isn’t enough fiber in a single pair of slacks and top to make much paper, so I added some linen material to the vat to stretch it a little, so I could make a few more sheets. The linen is of significance as well. It had been a tablecloth. The only connection between this tablecloth and November 22, 1963, is that it was in use that Thanksgiving. It had witnessed countless family gatherings, many before and after 1963. The linen fibers from that tablecloth are a token of celebration, a symbol of coming together.
Mixing the fibers together acknowledges and celebrates, as well as extends the number of sheets made from a teenager’s single pair of pants and shirts. It also magnifies and adds a magical dimension to my connection to this paper. It intensifies my bond to my materials and actively influences my work in a special way.
Sandy Kinnee