An x-ray of my mouth with a dead tooth and rose petals readied for perfume in a stone sink on the streets of Paris. Two images interacting: human teeth vital to our carnivorous heritage and soft shapes of roses after they are picked curving towards their demise.
Where is the interplay?
Teeth hold the story for the future to read. Delicate rose petals - flush in their beauty – call to life all the openings.
A tender graphite line maps the structure. Charcoal enlivens a darker, yet nuanced mark. Conté and pastel activate forms; thin washes of oil paint mixed with sand, pumice, and wax build layers of connective tissue.
Drawn with great haste, the movement is specific, tied to forms of the female and the ocean.
In the bite is my personal story. Layers of the body. Space of the mind within the body. Fragile objects on the ground. My mother buried at the bottom of the ocean. Coming to terms – an archeology of time.