Year of Graduation
Faculty / Course
Materials + Techniques
Cotton, wood, clay, laser cut
Love does not seem to be a emotion or state or a item for me, it feels more like a distant place, a location so detached from any normal experience in life that ends up with no-one having enough confidence to define it as a location rather than cognizing it as something ambiguous like feelings. But here, it’s tender land. It’s as exotic as the books on the very top of a shelf. Love poem then becomes more like a bridge or map that retains the trace back to that specific spot in time, or, a token, of softness, vagueness, of that dissolving landscape of memory. Like all bedtime stories. This artists' book is a love poem. It’s about unfolding, unraveling, about wearing away of time and recollecting. It’s about all tenderness in love encapsulated and all tenderness about tracing it. I heard the herd marching, spring springing, and I’m trying to reproduce this fragment of that time-scape. It’s not about me, or anyone, it’s about love, this specific love of mine, this piece of land and its soft rhyme murmuring deep inside us me.
artists' books, Baker & Whitehill