The damage is done; the storm has passed.
What is left now is all that matters.
Picking myself up, I begin to work.
The memory of place.
Memories of shapes, colors, textures, smells, and presence.
I seek peace, distance from what was destroyed.
I seek solitude and acceptance.
I define a new landscape excavated from memory.
Paper pulp, ink, paint, pumice.
Organic material, yarn, gold and copper leaves.
Repetitive forms resembling natural elements—paths, clouds, mountains.
Finding balance within the instability of forms.
Destroying materials—shredding, ripping, and carving.
Scabs no longer hidden; the healing begins.
Here. Strength, endurance, malleability, and power of nature.
Form and process coexist with the balance of the universe.
What was is gone; this is now.