An entire past comes to dwell in a new house. A new house with new things, reflections combined with the act of looking forward.
I believe there is a sort of mourning in my work, as if I've put myself outside of my current reality and instead I am looking back. I'm looking back at lives already lived, even though we are all still here.
The idea that these subjects will at some point be gone, their lives lived, their beauty faded, whirls around me, separates me from my present. But here they are, in their glorious existence, part of my story, embedded in my mind. I find myself soaring above, observing myself and my community from outside of myself. Time becomes non-linear, abstract.
Do these works satisfy my human needs? Yes. My need to collect and reflect upon these interactions, that they weren't merely glass objects. To create altars for those I have loved.
Sometimes it's different people and different places, but it's also the same, different places and different people, same places and same people, same places but it's always different and the same. You see? It's always just that.