Becky Phillips’ art wavers in leaps and falls between the intellectual and domestic realms, with dialogues in science, domesticity and feminism. Her work is introspective, balancing the overlapping (though historically antithetical) realms of mother and artist. Grounding herself firmly in the present, she experiments with installation to represent progress within a contemporary plot. In her works’ adaptation of lagging postmodern environment and place, time and distance are layered, warped or removed. Phillips’ imagery is strangely eery with a feminine edge as if there were an invisible link to the past lives of the women associated with Surrealism.