Your Body Is a Boundary to Be Crossed
Examining the permeable boundaries between the body, land, and legislative power. Suspended sheets of pigmented, recycled plastic hang in the gallery, their porous surfaces evoking the textures of the internal body. Projected onto these translucent layers are fragments of text that shift and dissolve, casting fleeting patterns onto the surrounding walls. On an adjacent wall, a map key deciphers the thread colors and red hues, translating them into a complex narrative of boundaries—both human-made and natural. These lines delineate bodies of water, mountain ranges, state and national borders, and the shifting legislation on abortion across the United States.
The red hues, divided by state lines, correspond to data on abortion access at the time of the maps’ creation: regions where abortion is banned or likely banned, protected or likely protected, or uncertain. These categorizations reveal how human experiences are divided, distorted, or diminished by the frameworks we impose on them. Like a game of telephone, meaning, and intent erode as they travel between individuals and systems, leaving fragmented truths behind.
This work is rooted in the artist’s outreach to women in her community and through alternative networks. Nakita Shelley collected deeply personal narratives from individuals who sought medical abortions after the overturn of Roe v. Wade. These stories, varied and poignant, speak to the complexity of living in a red state where bodily autonomy is under constant threat. Altered audio recordings, shared with the participants’ consent, play softly within the installation, allowing only one audience member at a time to hear the stories clearly. Corresponding text projections move across a series of semi-transparent maps, beginning with Utah and expanding outward to neighboring states and the nation as a whole. As the scale increases, the clarity of both voice and text dissipates until only fragments remain.
The installation invites reflection on the erosion of personal narratives and rights through the imposition of boundaries. In a space reminiscent of a sterile meat locker, the suspended sheets evoke fragility and unease. Tucked into a corner of the gallery, away from prominent display, the work mirrors the marginalization of these stories in public discourse.
Through this visceral and vulnerable installation, Shelley confronts the systemic forces that divide and distort individual experiences. She challenges viewers to consider their complicity in these systems and to reflect on the meaning of bodily autonomy. By placing the experiences of women in Utah within the broader context of national policy, the piece underscores how the United States has become fractured in its treatment of fundamental human rights.
Your Body Is a Boundary to Be Crossed ultimately asks: How much of our autonomy will we allow to be surrendered, and when will the loss of these rights demand critical reflection and collective action?
