My graduate thesis show, The Space Between Our Lines is on view until the 20th!
Opening reception is Tonight (5-7) !!!! I am thrilled to be a part of such a talented community, and to show my work alongside so many wonderful, determined and brilliant minds. I hope to see you there tonight !
Two negatives at the end of the role, initially abandoned but recently revisited. In response to the question “why analog still?”. A consideration, and conscious effort, to appreciate the small inconveniences.
And here the threshold is a hospitable threshold, one that does not intimidate us by its majesty. The two images: the calm nest and the old home, weave the sturdy web of intimacy on the dream loom. And the images are all simple ones, with no attempt at picturesqueness. The poet rightly thought that, at the mention of a nest, a bird’s song, and the charms that take us back to the old home, to the first home, a sort of musical chord would sound in the soul of the reader. But in order to make so gentle a comparison between house and nest, one must have lost the house that stood for happiness. So there is also an alas in this song of tenderness. If we return to the old home as to a nest, it is because memories are dreams, because the home of other days has become a great image of lost intimacy.
The Poetics of Space, NEST, Chapter 4.
I have remade this piece over and over. There is something in the act of repetitive exposure. There is something about memorizing where a mark might be. There is something in the sound of the surface, that I keep coming back to.
When I moved here I worried I would only be able to take pictures when I went back to Baltimore for visits. With time, I have found that there is enough here for me to see. Recently I have been listening for pictures. Like photographs from home, holding many senses.
What happens at the table when you are not home?
What happens at the table when I am not home?
How many different versions of us have sat at this table before ?
