fallen

paris, 2005

last night i dreamed i walked in the shadows to avoid being seen.

un titled

paris, 2005

dry, dusty, dead. roses. the deep red faded, the petals curled into themselves. rustling sounds like paper rubbing paper. a fragile brittleness. and to my eye, beautiful. it is like sapho says, what we love is beautiful.

opening

paris, 2005

non titled

paris, 2005

nothing to say today

paris, 2005

the way it was

paris, 2005

so much more

verdun, 2004/2005

always so much more going on than i can make sense of. so much more.

looking behind

verdun, 2004/2005

i have begun to look behind myself, this sifting through of the old. funny how when i am no longer at the place where i was standing i see things differently.

river walker

verdun, 2004/2005

in the winter of 2004/2005 i lived in verdun. close to the river. i would go down to the river and walk along its shore. everything was white with snow. the river was frozen. the dried stalks and twigs and branches from last years growth were visible against the snow like beautiful line drawings. the river and the whiteness and the fragility of these delicate remnants became charged for me. i started to bring a pen and little squares of paper in my coat pocket. when struck with that feeling of awe i would stop and crouch and take out my pen and paper and draw. this is one of the first drawings… i called the series river walker.