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Work Samples

Orientation Kit

One of 20 Orientation Kits that I mailed to each of my previous addresses. Each kit included 1 Compass Plant Seed, a bottle of Homemade Rooting Hormone, and Dirt from my childhood home.

Apartment 404 Not Found

Video documentation of Apartment 404 Not Found in which I moved my home into the gallery space, documented the installation as a 360-degree virtual reality image, and then removed all of my personal belongings from the gallery.

Free to a Good Home

Excerpt from Free to a Good Home, a Craigslist performance in which I offered and acquired objects for "free to a good home" and published the ads and resulting email exchanges in a book by the same title.
PDF icon Free to a Good Home

Views from Paradise

Video for an ongoing project in which I photograph the view from "paradise" as located by Google Maps and then publicly upload the images.


About Amber Eve

Amber Eve Anderson is a multidisciplinary artist whose conceptual work spans photography, sculpture, new media and writing. She received a multidisciplinary MFA from the Mount Royal School of Art at the Maryland Institute College of Art in 2016 where she received the only scholarship for second-year students.  She received her Bachelor of Fine Arts from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln in 2005. Before relocating to Baltimore, Anderson lived in South America and the Middle East, thus, her work is... more

Orientation Kit, 2016

I developed Orientation Kit while a fellow at the Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts in Nebraska City. Each kit includes one Compass Plant seed, a plant indigenous to the prairies of the Midwest that orients itself in relation to the sun, a bottle of homemade Rooting Hormone from the cottonwood tree, and dirt from my childhood home. I mailed one kit to each of my previous 20 addresses. Having oriented myself in relation to the places of my past that have shaped me, the Orientation Kit considers ways of orienting oneself beyond the directions of a map or the coordinates of a compass.

Exhibited in "Length of Our Shadow," Platform Gallery's 3rd annual juried exhibition. Juried by Zoe Charlton, Paul Rucker, and Jose Ruiz.

Apartment 404 Not Found, 2016

For Apartment 404 Not Found I moved my home into the gallery. I then documented the installation as a 360-degree virtual reality (VR) image before removing all of the furniture. A half-circle "orientation table" similar to what you might find at a hilltop vista, sits in the center of the space, the absent objects depicted on its surface. The dislocation of relocation is exemplified by the juxtaposition of physically standing in a vacant space while viewing that same space in virtual reality filled with the belongings of home. The furniture from the installation—packed atop a moving pallet, wrapped in plastic—became a sculptural object alongside the VR installation. My home remained empty for the duration of the exhibition.

Voyage Around My Bedroom, 2016

From a single position in my bedroom, I spin in a circle. Images show my iPhone pointing toward all of the places I've ever lived alongside poems that explore the space between here and there through objects and associations.

  • Almost east... the Middle East and the door to my bathroom, where I fly to Morocco every morning in a bottle of blue shampoo, and every night I spray my pillow with the scent of roses from there, too. My morning is already his afternoon, but does the shift of the sun and the smell of shampoo make him think of this place in my bedroom? The place where I am—in between here and there—not really anywhere? In an apartment where the doorway leads to a hallway that leads to an elevator that leads to the first floor entryway. Not exitway. Fire escapes and getaways. Always a way
  • Pointing directly south—

    —toward my years on the other side of the equator—where Christmas comes in the summertime and bougainvilleas bloom year round. There—then—caught in between for the first time; here—now—the still, blue vintage bedspread, gifted from my grandmother. In dreams I drift—my head resting on a pillowcase stitched with purple lilacs, a symbol of love and my mother’s favorite flower.
  • Toward a house I own... a city I never called home. Toward the window where I sit to smoke—the sill lined with shells from a trip to the beach in winter. Held to my ear, I don’t hear the ocean waves I’ve been conjuring for the past two years. It sounds more like static. Snow on a screen, but waves, nonetheless—or at least the absence of them. I hear the sound of the unmoved. A wishbone without a lucky winner. A cardboard toy house. Pushed aside are yellow lace curtains, the centers faded to buttercream.
  • A dresser—

    —mostly empty—a green tufted chair to match a green suitcase—also empty—and a mirror ringed with painted posies. Beyond that: rooftops and chimneys and antennas, in a city full of empty houses, and further still, the place where I was born and raised and educated and married. The place I abandoned for all the other places—any other place—only to find this place, emptied of all my horizons. Below the rooftops are the train tracks leading elsewhere. They sing in cold weather.
  • 0 Degrees North

    now where nowhere no there not here

Views from Paradise, 2016

An ongoing project in which I photograph views from inside “paradise” looking out and then publicly upload the photos to Google Maps. By applying the principles of psychogeography to the digital landscape, "Views from Paradise" uses language as a means to subvert our understanding of place (i.e. paradise) and insert poetics into modern methods of navigation (i.e. Google Maps). See the growing collection of "Views from Paradise" here:

Accepted for international hosting by Project Anywhere ( throughout 2017.

Free to a Good Home, 2016

Through this collection of objects offered and acquired for ‘free to a good home’ on Craigslist, I construct an image of home based on the things within it. Everyday objects gain importance through personal histories and associations. At times poetic, at times mundane, the pages within document the ads and subsequent email exchanges, offering a glimpse into the online interactions of the anonymous. From a classic 1940s sofa to an underwater camera case, the ephemera of one home assumes life in another, each object connecting every home.

Exhibited in "not really here" at Platform Gallery, Baltimore, "Gift Shop" at Transformer, Washington DC, and "Distinguishable From Magic" at Collar Works in Troy, NY.

Available for purchase at Bookish (Baltimore, MD), Printed Matter (New York, NY) and

Seabed, 2015

The bed is the most intimate of spaces. Over the course of one month, I took aerial photographs of my sheets each morning. The space of the intimate became the place of the immense in which the daily movement of the sheets stand in for sea swirls--the Atlantic Ocean that separated my two homes.

Unique Edition of 30 with 3 Deluxe Editions (+2 APs)
Each edition comes in an archival box with a signed and numbered copy of the book, as well as a signed, unique print of the accompanying photograph. The print correlates to the edition of the book (1/30 comes with a print of the first page of the book). The 3 Deluxe Editions also come with a USB containing a universal file for the Seabed video.

  • Seabed (Deluxe Edition)

    Unique edition of 30 with 3 deluxe editions. Each edition comes in an archival box with a signed and numbered copy of the book, as well as a signed, unique print of the accompanying photograph. The print correlates to the edition of the book (1/30 comes with a print of the first page of the book). The 3 Deluxe Editions also come with a USB containing a universal file for the Seabed video.

Holes in the Digital Sphere, 2015

Google Street View does not exist in Morocco, but with the release of the Google Street View App in the fall of 2015, users are able to capture and upload their own 360 degree street view images using their personal devices. If the user fails to capture the sky overhead, a black hole appears in the image. This piece shows all of the black holes in the digital Google Street View sky over Morocco, collected by taking screenshots while searching through all of the images. They are arranged in ascending order, so the smallest holes appear at one end of the line of images until the screenshot finally becomes entirely black. This references the gap between one's experience of a real place and one's experience of that place through digital representation.

Videos, 2014-2015

  • 1320 (clip)

    A video in which my younger sister and my older brother recount memories of our childhood home to me over FaceTime.
  • 1320

    Full video to be viewed on your personal handheld device.
  • GhaRaBa

    From a single three-letter Arabic root—gha, ra, ba—comes a list of more than 50 words and three times as many translations, including not only the Arabic word for Morocco (al-Maghreb), but also place of the setting sun, life away from home, and exile. Using Hans Wehr’s Dictionary of Modern Written Arabic, I compiled this list of words with screenshots from Google Image Searches for the same words in Arabic alongside their English equivalents.
  • Transliteration

    An excerpt from Mahmoud Darwish’s poem about the death of Edward Said is the basis for this video. Originally written in Arabic, this excerpt is the English translation. The English translation was then transliterated back into the Arabic alphabet. The Arabic letters approximate the sounds of the English language as best as possible.

A Breeze From the Other Side of the Atlantic, 2014

A fan built from scratch that replicates real-time wind speed from Rabat, Morocco by using a 12V DC motor and an Arduino microcontroller. The fan updates its speed every 60 seconds based on online weather data for Rabat from the National Weather Service. When the program is running, one can stand in front of the fan and feel the same intensity of breeze that is simultaneously in Rabat.

Beit en Valise, 2014

Beit en Valise is a conflation of “house” in Arabic -- beit -- and “in a suitcase” in French -- en Valise, which alludes to Marcel Duchamp's seminal work Boîte-en-valise (Box in a Suitcase). This piece is a documentation of everything I own in 770 photographs that I made in preparation for a move from Washington, DC to Rabat, Morocco. Upon leaving Washington I installed the photographs in the various spaces I inhabited until my belongings arrived in my new home in Rabat. These places included a hotel room in Washington, a camper van in New Zealand, and my parents' basement in Nebraska.

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