Alex Saba

Two-Faced

Titled Two-Faced, my thesis focuses on the commonality of abuse and the effects of abusive relationships on the survivor. My personal experience with an abusive relationship along with the impact it has on so many people serves as the motivating factor for the body of work. The works exhibit the side abusers showcase to the world while the writings will reveal how the abusers really are. Merging sculpture and text, I have written poems based on stories from peer-survivors that have been willing to share their experience using interviews. Each piece represents a story from a peer with a furniture piece that correlates with it. With all the survivors being peers of mine, it brings light to how common abuse is and how easy it is to be connected to abuse, even without knowing it.

I am using furniture design to create the feeling of being in a home. The intention of this body of work is for the viewers to interact with the furniture and poems, adding personal narratives to the objects concerning indirect and direct experiences with abuse and inviting them to give an anonymous response on my personal website that I will post. The furniture pieces are fully functional, made from a variety of materials such as steel, wood, ceramics, leather, and felt. From a distance, the piece and readability of the poems reflect how abuse is not seen from outside closed doors, but if looked at closely, then what really happened in the homes of those survivors will be revealed.

Alex Saba signature

Thesis Committee

  • Professor Critz Campbell 
  • Professor Jenna Altomonte
  • Professor Rowan Haug

 

pictured left to right is chair, and lamp for wife who was a prisoner, and couch. chair and couch are angled towards each other.

Two-Faced

quilt divided in half, one side with stenciled on poem and the other with shapes that resemble the shape of the poem with no words. at the top it says two faced.“YOU CAN DO NO WRONG IN HIS EYES!” “HE’S SUCH A NICE GUY.” “OH, JUST GIVE YOUR MOM A BREAK.” “IF YOU EVER DON’T WANT HIM ANYMORE, LET ME KNOW!” “WOW, HE TREATS YOUR SON LIKE HIS OWN.”THE WORDS THAT OTHERS SAY ABOUT THEM, THE OTHERS DON’T KNOW. THEY ARE NOT WHO THEY SAY THEY ARE. EVERYTHING YOU DO IS WRONG IN HIS EYES. HE’S NOT A NICE GUY. SHE DOESN’T DESERVE ANY BREAKS. HE DOES NOT TREAT YOU WELL AT ALL.THEY ARE MONSTERS PRETENDING TO BE HUMANS: THEY HIT. THEY YELL. THEY MANIPULATE. THEY THROW THINGS. THEY DRINK TOO MUCH. THEY ARE RECKLESS. THEY TELL YOU YOU’RE WORTHLESS... THEY SUCK THE LIFE OUT OF YOU UNTIL YOU DIE IN EVERY WAY, EXCEPT PHYSICALLY. THEY ARE THE MONSTERS THAT SHOULD ONLY BE IN NIGHTMARES. BUT THEY ARE OUR REALITY.

 

The Girlfriend Who Became His Ragdoll

side angle view of bed frame, steel rectangle legs, with leather detail on corners. ruffled comforter on top.detail of steel leg on bed.other side of bed, can see sheet underneath with poem on it but cannot read it yet. detail shot of poem stenciled on bedsheet: THE GIRLFRIEND WHO BECAME HIS RAGDOLL STAGE 1: I AM HIS SECRET. HE’S 2 & A HALF HOURS AWAY IF I GET A BOYFRIEND, HE SAID HE’D KILL HIMSELF HE LEAVES, BUT HE ALWAYS COMES BACK TO ME. HE’S MY FIRST ANYTHING, HE SAYS I’M HIS EVERYTHING. HE MUST LOVE ME, THIS IS NORMAL STAGE 2: WE ARE OUT OF HIGHSCHOOL, HE’S AT COMMUNITY COLLEGE. I’M THE OTHER GIRL... I TELL HIS GIRLFRIEND. HE TELLS ME THAT I’M UGLY & THAT HE HATES ME STAGE 3: TWO YEARS HAVE PASSED. WE CAN HAVE AN ADULT RELATIONSHIP. ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO BE SCARED IN THE BED YOU SLEEP IN? IS HE SUPPOSED TO CHOKE YOU SO YOU CAN’T SAY NO? AM I SUPPOSED TO LEFT TIED UP FOR HOURS? WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS? I’VE ONLY HAD A FEW DRINKS. I DON’T FEEL WELL… I DON’T REMEMBER ANYTHING, HOW DID I GET HOME? HE SAYS SHE PUSHED HIM, SO HE WANTED TO LEAVE… BUT I DIDN’T. WHY IS HE DISTANT? HE’S SAYING HE HATES ME, HE’S GONE. STAGE 4: TWO MONTHS PASS. WHY ARE THEY ASKING IF I’M OKAY TWO MONTHS AFTER THE PARTY? HE LIED. HE LEFT BECAUSE HE SLAPPED ME IN FRONT OF EVERYONE. HE HIT ME SO HARD I FELL TO THE GROUND. I KNOW THIS ISN’T NORMAL. THAT’S IT. I’M DONE & HE KNOWS IT. STAGE 5: IT’S BEEN SO LONG. HE STILL SHOWS UP SOMETIMES, LIKE HE’S TAUNTING ME, HE SEEKS MY UNCOMFORT. HE’LL SIT NEXT TO ME IN AN EMPTY RESTAURANT. & HE TELLS PEOPLE THAT I’M THE CRAZY ONE, BUT I WAS NOTHING TO HIM, JUST A VESSEL.

 

The Daughter That Felt Stupid

couch with paneled leather cushions and felt sides, wood frame, and metal legs that are also arm rests. couch pulls out into bed. pillow with poem is on it. detail of couch and pillow.

 

detail of couch pulled out. detail of couch pulled out

 

detail of poem on pillow: THE DAUGHTER THAT FLET STUPID HE’S NOT ON THE COUCH, HE SHOULD BE OKAY TO TAKE ME. HE’S DONE IT A MILLION TIMES. HE SEEMS FINE I DIDN’T SMELL IT UNTIL WE GOT IN… WHAT HAVE I DONE? THE RADIO IS SO LOUD. HE MISSED A TURN, HE CAN’T STAY ON THE ROAD. I SHOULDN’T HAVE ASKED HIM. HE MISSED ANOTHER TURN, HE CAN’T KEEP ON THE ROAD! I SEE HEADLIGHTS… HE’S ON THE WRONG SIDE! DAD… DAD. DAD! WE BARELY MISSED IT. WE MAKE IT. MY MOTHER’S WORDS RINGING IN MY EARS AS I SPRINT INSIDE, “NEVER GET IN THE CAR WITH HIM UNLESS I SAY IT’S OKAY.” HE WON’T REMEMBER IN THE MORNING… HE WAS JUST ON THE COUCH IN THE BASEMENT INSTEAD.

 

The Daughter Who Was Never Good Enough

chair with steel legs that are also arm rests, cushions are leather with felt sides, framing is wood. pillow on chair has stenciled poem on it. detail shot of chair without pillow to better show cushions. poem on pillow: THE DAUGHTER WHO WAS NEVER GOOD ENOUGH 13 OR 14, PREPPY WHITE V-NECK, TUCKED IN. I DRESSED FOR HER “YOU LOOK LIKE A TIRE SWING.” I KNEW THAT I COULD NEVER LIVE UP TO HER STANDARDS. AS SHE TAKES HER XANAX, COSMOS TO WASH IT DOWN… SOMETIMES WINE. AS SHE GETS MY DAD TO MAKE HER ANOTHER, SHE SITS IN THE BLUE CHAIR. AND THE MORE GONE SHE IS, THE MORE SHE FORCES HER AFFECTION. “WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME?” ...BECAUSE NO AMOUNT OF FORCED HUGS CAN FIX WHAT YOU’VE DONE. SHE WILL ALWAYS DENY WHAT SHE SAID TO ME. I’M NOT SURE SHE EVEN REMEMBERS

The Wife Who Was a Prisoner

metal lamp with trapezoid base with wood in center, light housing is ceramic in leather sling. with small tapestry behind with poem on it. THE WIFE WHO WAS A PRISONER I’VE NEVER BEEN SO LONELY AND ISOLATED IN MY LIFE. I’M SUPPOSED TO BE HAPPY WITH MY FAMILY… BUT ALL I’M DOING IS SURVIVING IN HIS CRAZYLAND. HE TOOK DOWN THE FLAGS AND MOWED OVER THE FLOWERS AGAIN... HE SAID HE DIDN’T SEE THEM… HE WON’T LET ME GO TO A MEETING, HE WON’T LET ME GET A JOB, GOD, I NEED TO GET OUT OF THIS HOUSE. “IF YOU GO TO OHIO, DON’T COME BACK.” I LEFT, BUT I CAME BACK IT’S THE ONLY WAY TO KEEP A ROOF OVER THEIR HEADS. HE’S A;WAYS WATCHING, ALWAYS THERE… HE LISTENS IN ON PHONE CALLS. WE’RE ALL IN THE CAR, HE SAYS I’M CHEATING ON HIM WITH A PIZZA DELIVERY MAN THAT’S 15 HOURS AWAY! WHO I TALK TO ONCE A MONTH FOR 30 MINUTES. WHO IS A DEAR OLD FRIEND, WHO HELPED ME GET SOBER. “YOU’RE GOING TO DRIVE OVER THERE & KILL HIM?!” “YOU’RE SCARING THE KIDS, YOU’RE DELUSIONAL, YOU’RE INSANE!” I HID WHO HE WAS TO EVERYONE TO SURVIVE. LOOKING BACK, IT WASN’T THE ONLY WAY, BUT I DIDN’T KNOW THAT, I WAS TRAPPED. & I WAS LOSING MY MIND HE WOULDN’T LET ME TURN MY LIGHT OFF, EVEN THOUGH IT HAD BEEN BURNT OUT FOR YEARS.

The Step-Son

light ficture mounted into wall with 3 lights and ceramic housing in leather sling on metal framing. dim lightingdetail of the step-sonpoem on tapestry: the step-son

The Daughter With Only One Foot Out

light figure hanging from the ceiling with 5 lights and housings in leather sling.Detail of The Daughter with Only One Foot Out.Poem on tapestry for the daughter with only 1 foot out: THE DAUGHTER WITH ONLY ONE FOOT OUT BACK LEFT CORNER. ON TOP OF THE DRESSER. IN THE CLOSET. YOU COULD FIND IT THERE. IT WAS KEPT UP WITH THE SEASONS, I WOULD USE IT IF IT GOT BAD ENOUGH… AMONG THE TIMES I LEFT, I USED IT 3 TIMES: FIRST TIME: MIDDLE SCHOOL, 12 I DON’T REALLY REMEMBER… I THINK HE TOLD ME TO KILL MYSELF. I RAN THROUGH THE WOODS. I WAS GONE FOR A FEW DAYS… SECOND TIME: EARLY HIGHSCHOOL, 15 I DON’T REMEMBER… I THINK HE THREW HOT FOOD AT ME, ALONG WITH THE PLATE. I CALLED A FRIEND TO PICK ME UP. I WAS GONE A NIGHT OR TWO THIRD TIME: SENIOR YEAR OF HIGHSCHOOL, 17 HE CHASED ME UP TO THE TOP FLOOR SCREAMING. HE GRABBED MY FEET AND DRAGGED ME DOWN. I KICKED HIS FACE HE SAID HE’D KILL HIMSELF. HE SAID IT WOULD BE MY FAULT. I DROVE AWAY WILL I COME BACK TO A DEAD BODY? I ALWAYS HAS A BAG PACKED, BUT I ALWAYS WENT BACK. NEVER TURNING MY LIGHT OFF IN THAT HOUSE.

 

 

 

 

portrait of artist

 

Visit the artist's website here!

Contact at (205) 563-2589 or at a.sabafurniture@gmail.com

 

 

 

 

 

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