Everything casts a shadow, but you can’t always see it. Maybe the shadow is what is left behind. Cat hair on a jumper, bike grease on your shins, food stuck in your teeth.
Or maybe the shadow of an object or building or smudge on the window, is the photo someone took of it on their phone. The duplicate lives on, in the cloud, overwhelmed by the other shadows surrounding it.
This time I do see it. I see where the light projects a form onto the wall. A sun painting. It dances around, depending on what time it is. If I could just catch it, nail it down. But these things are meant to be fleeting, different each time you enter the same room.
I use found objects, materials, processes and objects found at the margins of everyday life to build a visual and spatial language. Packaging material, discarded bricks, wax, metal, chain and wool join knitting, encaustic, painting, transfers and photocopies used to create ephemeral juxtapositions that subtlety subvert the value we ascribe to things. This language moves attention to what an unassuming object or passing shadow has to say.