My name is Benji Freeman, and I am a student in the Visual Arts program at Princeton. This website holds the record of my Senior Thesis show. Throughout this year, I have found photography to inadequately convey internal mental states, especially when human subjects could not be safely photographed. I have chosen to lean into the disorder of this year, and I have indulged in my difficulty with holding onto a coherent artistic thread. In this show, I explore the intersecting modalities of image, text, sounds (synthesized and gathered), and line. I still employ the logic of photography (projection being its optical inverse) to interfere with the ordinarily-clean transition between semantics, symbol, and word, in an attempt to mimic an incomprehensible signaling landscape. 





















                                 




              Two hands on polyethylene dropcloths,
              rigged from the ceiling






               
                   

                                     




























            one of a pair of etched (and sketched) words



                                                                                                                                                   









        (bl)each












                                                                                                         
 scrap(e)                       



















                                          



                                                    one word spills out, whispered from space itself













































   ... mylar sheets, stretched over buckets and vibrated by an outraged voice, serve as reflectors ... 





                                                                              

a mirror slices off a section of projection ...




... the resulting text scrolls across burlap, plywood, steel, and wood















                                                                         





















Objects of daily life held in suspense,                   
ropes crisscrossing and draped across the space,
with a creeping outgrowth of light











































a day later, it’s all gone































...



















... 


















... what’s this?















tucked out of sight, there is a pile of photographs...






...i wonder what these are doing here