An incessantly looping, gestural squiggle of a line re-appears in these landscapes of mind. Without prescribed meaning, this line references all sorts of coiling and uncoiling, thought, worry, conversation, written language and things that move in circles and cycles, like time.
Part performance, all process, and rather absurd, I love the physicality of the interaction between sewing machine, thread and paper. Paper, once flat, shiny and proper becomes tattered and soft, entirely transformed. Stitched lines mend inevitable tears, restoring a tenuous integrity. Systems of punctures become fault lines, threatening further disintegration. When dissolvable matrix replaces paper, all that remains is a delicate network of threads.