The Glass Holds, September, 2023
Adrift, Digital Video, 2023.
Toy boats in the summer. Shrieks of laughter. Off up and away!
Mother wings. August 20, 2023.
Very early that morning we saved my Mother. The butterfly had been there against the window, probably since the night. I wondered if it was the specter of maternal death that seemed inevitable. The moth remained motionless for several hours, there, as if through a magnifying glass, no doubt to remind me of the fragile gap, this thin membrane wall between life and death. I wanted to make sure he was alive and I opened the porthole. The threat vanished and my tears flowed. Both were alive.
Letter from Glasgow:
L’ Avenir au Bois Dormant or Philomela’s Cry
I spent much of the summer sorting — endless piles of paper, scrawled pages of notes and beginnings, false starts and interruptions, and hundreds of rolls of drawings that had been stored in an attic, unseen for thirty years. It was so hot in the small space that I unfurled the scrolls in my underwear and soon became trapped inside them, submerged by these unruly curls and screeds of yellowed paper, that sprung out and fast piled up about my body and over my head — a snaking chaos inscribed with thousands of drawings.
Video diary Around the light, 5 Sept 2023
A Tree in Kostiantynivka (Google Street View 2022) Sept 7. 2023
The Uneven Path, 2023