This photograph captures a row of potatoes installed along the window line of Brief Histories, a second-floor gallery overlooking the Bowery in New York City. Throughout the installation’s duration, the potatoes were periodically spritzed with water, eventually exhibiting new vegetative growth. The image was recorded at the moment a school bus passed the gallery facade during the initial phase of the exhibition.

Domesticated in the Andean highlands of modern-day Peru over 8,000 years ago, the potato was first introduced to Europe by Spanish conquistadors in the late 16th century, though it was initially met with suspicion as a member of the poisonous nightshade family. It eventually became a dietary staple across the continent, arguably powering the Industrial Revolution before being reintroduced to North America in the 1620s via British governors in the Caribbean and later by Irish immigrants in the 1700s.

This global journey is made possible by the tuber’s unique physiology; as a modified stem, it enters a state of endodormancy where internal hormones like abscisic acid prevent growth even in favorable conditions. This survival mechanism allows the potato to remain viable for months until its “eyes” (lateral buds) eventually break dormancy to sprout, ensuring the plant can persist across seasons and long maritime voyages.



After several weeks, the axillary buds or “eyes” that sprouted during the exhibition became more pronounced. The work’s title references the Superstudio collective (Frassinelli, A. Magris, R. Magris, Natalini, di Francia, and Poli) who conceptualized a totalizing Cartesian grid intended to override existing topography and borders.

This architectural abstraction mirrors solanum tuberosum and its rhizomatic growth pattern. Much like the Continuous Monument functions as a singular planetary superstructure, the potato expands via a decentralized subterranean network. The sprouting eyes exhibit a biological infrastructure that occupies space according to a non-hierarchical logic in every direction, mirroring the way Superstudio’s grid sought to ironicallyt colonize the global environment through an infinite mathematical abstraction. Both the architectural grid and the biological organism contain the desire for a logic to propagate, even when that impulse is at detrimental to its material reality.

An Altec Lansing “Voice of the Theatre” speaker has been modified and refaced with the bark of Du Zhong (Eucommia ulmoides). Within Traditional Chinese Medicine, Du Zhong is an essential compound utilized to fortify “jing,” the primordial life force of all living beings. The A8 was originally engineered in the 1950s for the cavernous environments of movie houses and black-box theaters, designed to project the human voice with clinical accuracy as well as carry the burgeoning field of sound effects.



During the 1970s and 80s as theaters in city centers were being decommisioned these units were reclaimed by underground proto-rave subcultures. Their high efficiency and robust low-end response made them a suitable for DIY soundsystems for the emergent, bass-heavy frequencies of house and techno. The refacing of the speaker mimics this historical cycle of reappropriation as a stack of microfiche from the New York Times sits atop the structure. Unplayable by the speaker but potentially awaiting a novel approach.

The structure atop the floorlamp is a diorama of the San Gabriel Mission, one of the first Spanish churches in California. I meticulously sculpted the clay to resemble cardboard and tempera paint, though it is crafted entirely from ceramics and glaze. For nearly a century, fourth graders in California were required to build such models as take-home assignments while learning about their Californian history.
Upon returning to California during the pandemic, I became fascinated by this ritual, in which history is repeated, and a power structure is physically rebuilt and reperformed by students, implicating new generations in the process of development of California.