I find inspiration in the cast-off, the left-behind; remnant possessions of the dead. I rattle around in the attics of strangers; take naps in the realms of history and memory, braiding moonbeams into digestible sleep. I look for a sanctuary space and, finding none, yearn to create it. I bring these people and places back to life in the way I can. It’s a visceral response to loss– a building of bridges across time. I seek meaning– some reassurance to counter the tenuousness of every human connection.

My dreams are bound with waxed sail thread and glue; my palette is that of aching tenderness or bruised fragility. These images are projections only; imprecise castings of remnants discovered deep in silent layers of dust.

 

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