After the Storm
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
Do you like her work?
Hire her for your project.