Fourth Wall is a vertical projection of a larger-than-life-size woman superimposed on a formstone-covered façade of a Baltimore row house. The projected shadows in the molded concrete cast a pattern upon her body as she stands deadpan, dances to an unheard song, paces, and squats, searching the floor. An occasional car or pedestrian passes by. Overlaid on these two shots is a view of a sidewalk scrolling underfoot and the occasional twirl of little circling feet in shoes and pink socks. Sounds of walking are interrupted by the age-old question, “Mama?” until the repetition becomes an ambient drone. The image is mundane and cyclical, like life within the container of motherhood. Recorded questions directly address the viewer:
What do you eat when I’m not there? Are you afraid to shower? What do you wear when you sleep? I don’t want to get old or die. Who can I tell that I don’t want to? Do your towels match? Are you reaching up her skirt? Is your mother dead? Want to come over for dinner? Some questions are poignant, some are jarring, most are dull, and all are incongruous.