Artist's Statement
(In)voluntary Separation
a thousand images of transformation

This is a show about transformation. About fear. About courage. About hope…

In October of last year I got word that my high tech programming job was being outsourced to India. An “Involuntary Separation” in the euphemistic jargon of the corporate culture. I had six months to train my replacements.

I was surprised at my reaction to this news. I was excited. I was hopeful. I was ambivalent and terrified. Was it really involuntary? I’m not so sure…

Twenty years ago I started a career as an artist. It was a struggle, of course, but then it’s supposed to be, right? One day – and I could probably pinpoint the day if I had to, because I think about it a lot - my career took a turn. Not a wrong turn necessarily, but a turn away from art and into the world of business. It was a move that provided stability and security - food for the table if not food for the soul. It was a move that has allowed me to support a family, pay a mortgage, have health insurance, take vacations. I’ve been on that road a long time…

The news of my impending layoff threw me into a swirling morass of self-retrospection. What had I done with my life? Where was I going? To quote David Byrne in the Talking Heads song Once in a Lifetime: “My God, how did I get here?”

This installation is a visual representation of my search for answers to these questions. It is literally my life flashing before my eyes – and now yours.

I look at this disturbing event as an opportunity to transform my life. I don’t know where it’s going but my hope is that if I face adversity with courage and creativity, surround myself with the things I’m passionate about it can’t help but turn out well.

I hope you enjoy this installation. My advice – don’t take it too seriously, don’t try to look at each individual image. Let your eyes float over the panels, zoom in when something interests you, skim over what doesn’t. And if it seems like you’re thumbing through my family photo albums or rooting through my underwear drawer don’t worry about it, it feels that way to me too…

Thomas Athey
March, 2004