Artist Statement by Jeff Gibbons
I lived in a warehouse in Dallas for 9 years so I could make art and not have to struggle as much to get by. It had no windows besides an opaque skylight in the center of the room. I used to jokingly call the space an oubliette, which was a sort of prison that was just a hole or tower with an opening in the top where they dropped people inside, forever. It was in an area where no one could hear me scream so I slept with a bat next to my bed mostly as a sort of placebo. I grew up in Detroit and I’ve been looking over my shoulder for most of my life.

In Ptown in the off-season I stand on the beach in the middle of the night and let the wind fill my ears and press against my closed eyes, worrying less about someone grabbing me from behind. It’s the kind of comfort usually reserved for society’s most well-to-do members. People will kill in order to be more comfortable. They will work their bodies into crooked shapes of pain to attempt to achieve comfort for themselves and their families. We lie to ourselves as a way to feel more comfortable, when really we are not.