Archival pigment print, linen thread, davey board, book cloth
Edition of 10
4.5 x 15 x 5 inches (open)
Danielle Giudici Wallis is an artist and educator based in Yucca Valley, California. Her multi-faceted practice includes sculpture, photography, and community-based social practice, through which she explores the constructed boundaries between nature and culture. She teaches at the University of Redlands, Johnston Center for Integrative Studies. daniellegiudiciwallis.com, @dgiudici
Verge (v.rj) n.
1.a. An edge or margin.
1.b. A border, as along a road; a strip of grass or plants between the road and sidewalk
2. The point beyond which an action, state, or condition is likely to begin or occur; the brink.
I began visiting Joshua Tree as a young artist, drawn to the vast landscapes, the heat, the abandoned homestead cabins, and what I then perceived as emptiness. After moving to the region, I realized it wasn’t emptiness, it was stillness. It was the quiet I had previously only associated with the fresh fallen snow of my east coast childhood, yet it was the Mojave Desert.
The homestead cabins are no longer abandoned; many have morphed into modern vacation rentals. The roads are no longer empty; at last count over 3 million visitors descend annually on the region. Despite the influx of tourists, poverty persists among the local population and the divide deepens as second-home owners, remote workers and commercial developers gentrify the area. The Verge project is centered in Yucca Valley. In 2020, when the Western Joshua tree, Yucca brevifolia, became a candidate species under the California Endangered Species Act, the town council formally opposed its listing, fearing that state regulation could impede the economic development and growth that has been spurred by the very landscape they chose not to support protecting.
The trees I have been visiting live in and on the verge, wedged between the Walmart and the highway and skirting the grounds of a truck dealership. Theatrically lit by only ambient light, the stark black background and artificial light seemed to flatten the trees, akin to the superficiality of the instagrammed desert images that drive tourism and the development that follows. Instagram, by design, encourages the compulsive consumption of two-dimensional imagery. It reduces the environment to a stage and the Joshua tree to a prop devoid of life and substance. This flattening of space is imitated through the use of cut-out images similar to those deployed as selfie props. Behind the facades, found signage and other detritus allude to he issues that have plagued the area; poverty and gentrification come sharply into focus. The images teeter on the edge of reality inviting the viewer to step into a constructed world view which turns out to be a polished but cracked facade.