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Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
6.25 × 2.75 in
Hand-cut International Currency Collage on Archival Paper
A First Class Ticket to MeanieLand uses the dollar bill as both stage and seduction. A surface that promises freedom, movement, and possibility while quietly asserting control. The dollar’s power lies not only in what it can buy, but in how easily it captivates, directing desire and shaping imagined futures.
This composition unfolds as a diplomatic diorama built entirely within the confines of currency. The Diplomatic Diorama starts as landscapes, buildings, and creatures from across the globe. They’re carefully placed, balanced, and allowed to interact, not as decoration, but as evidence of how the dollar absorbs cultures, histories, and labor. Venezuela’s Sierra Nevada National Park forms the background, overshadowed by a monumental Chinthe from Myanmar. Beneath it, a passenger train from Sri Lanka emerges along sea level, its motion implied but contained. Each element suggests travel, exchange, and dominance, yet all remain fixed within the bill’s borders.
At the top, a Douglas DC-9 bearing ALM Dutch Antillean Airlines livery ascends through floral clouds cut from Georgia and Indonesia. The flight implies escape, luxury, and first-class mobility, while remaining inseparable from the currency that enables it. Toward the end of the bill, a kneeling woman pulls back a curtain, revealing the ever-ethereal MeanieLand.
MeanieLand is not a destination in the geographic sense. It exists as an ideal construct, a place made real through belief, desire, and the illusion of escape. It sits at the intersection of love and absolution, where freedom feels attainable, but only through systems that define who gets to move, who gets to dream, and who pays the cost.
If a ticket can’t be bought with money, how does one get to MeanieLand?
6.25 × 2.75 in
Hand-cut International Currency Collage on Archival Paper
A First Class Ticket to MeanieLand uses the dollar bill as both stage and seduction. A surface that promises freedom, movement, and possibility while quietly asserting control. The dollar’s power lies not only in what it can buy, but in how easily it captivates, directing desire and shaping imagined futures.
This composition unfolds as a diplomatic diorama built entirely within the confines of currency. The Diplomatic Diorama starts as landscapes, buildings, and creatures from across the globe. They’re carefully placed, balanced, and allowed to interact, not as decoration, but as evidence of how the dollar absorbs cultures, histories, and labor. Venezuela’s Sierra Nevada National Park forms the background, overshadowed by a monumental Chinthe from Myanmar. Beneath it, a passenger train from Sri Lanka emerges along sea level, its motion implied but contained. Each element suggests travel, exchange, and dominance, yet all remain fixed within the bill’s borders.
At the top, a Douglas DC-9 bearing ALM Dutch Antillean Airlines livery ascends through floral clouds cut from Georgia and Indonesia. The flight implies escape, luxury, and first-class mobility, while remaining inseparable from the currency that enables it. Toward the end of the bill, a kneeling woman pulls back a curtain, revealing the ever-ethereal MeanieLand.
MeanieLand is not a destination in the geographic sense. It exists as an ideal construct, a place made real through belief, desire, and the illusion of escape. It sits at the intersection of love and absolution, where freedom feels attainable, but only through systems that define who gets to move, who gets to dream, and who pays the cost.
If a ticket can’t be bought with money, how does one get to MeanieLand?