Cassidy is a White, nonbinary artist, born and raised in Massachusetts.
My living room, self healing green cutting mats, and self portraits have been helping me see structure, to understand space, to recognize myself, your self, my body, your body. In my living room I paint my big blue chair, my partner falling asleep, my windows and cheap curtains, the sunset in Chicago. Lines in grid patterns on my cutting mat meet to tell us how many inches or centimeters long our hands are, how to cut a straight line through paper. Painting my eyebrows and my hair as it changes, painting my skin, sticky and slapped on, sometimes scraped through, helps me see myself outside of a mirror or a photograph, living and malleable—occasionally stagnant.
In my work I am mushing, queering, smudging and cutting up linear narrative and understanding, peeling away at my visual understanding of certain objects. Composing images with cutting mats and inhalers, using my body as giant, as god, as scrap of paper—often suspended in a dark blue sky. I think a lot about quiet menace mixing with hope and possibility in objects, in feelings. Color helps me make new sense of a world without straight lines, without perfect measurement, without ultimates.
My work considers the poetry in the spaces between objects, in the fallibility of physical measurement, and in the indeterminacy of subjective experience.