
The current work in progress, The Distant Swell of the Open Ocean, began with the death of the last member of the First Litter, my father’s three older siblings. With a twenty-year age difference between the two youngest and three oldest siblings, the First Litter were always seen as the formidable adults in the family. Without their presence—and their never-ending, boundless resource of advice—the rest of us have been a little lost. Pulling from family and personal archives, this body of work is a study in liminal space and the conversations and questions of those left behind. Their position, wherever it may be, and mine are separated by a boundary that I cannot traverse clearly. The emotions I navigate are as boundless as every empty space I try to find my people in - the ocean, the stars, the space between breaths, and every bit in between.
The current work in progress, The Distant Swell of the Open Ocean, began with the death of the last member of the First Litter, my father’s three older siblings. With a twenty-year age difference between the two youngest and three oldest siblings, the First Litter were always seen as the formidable adults in the family. Without their presence—and their never-ending, boundless resource of advice—the rest of us have been a little lost. Pulling from family and personal archives, this body of work is a study in liminal space and the conversations and questions of those left behind. Their position, wherever it may be, and mine are separated by a boundary that I cannot traverse clearly. The emotions I navigate are as boundless as every empty space I try to find my people in - the ocean, the stars, the space between breaths, and every bit in between.
The current work in progress, The Distant Swell of the Open Ocean, began with the death of the last member of the First Litter, my father’s three older siblings. With a twenty-year age difference between the two youngest and three oldest siblings, the First Litter were always seen as the formidable adults in the family. Without their presence—and their never-ending, boundless resource of advice—the rest of us have been a little lost. Pulling from family and personal archives, this body of work is a study in liminal space and the conversations and questions of those left behind. Their position, wherever it may be, and mine are separated by a boundary that I cannot traverse clearly. The emotions I navigate are as boundless as every empty space I try to find my people in - the ocean, the stars, the space between breaths, and every bit in between.