Standing in front of this piece, what fills is in fact the backside of a painting with a broken wooden frame and its canvas torn. In the gap of the torn canvas, you can see a woman looking out. The painting has been destroyed, torn, and then re-built. In the process of making this work, I have lost a sense of myself.
The woman is not being looked at, but she is actively looking. On the other side of her gaze, there will be an audience or maybe myself.
My images from sentences randomly selected from text, letting irregularity enter the otherwise continuous flow of narrative so as to deplete words from their assigned meanings. In doing so, my images begin to have a life on its own, sometimes even surprising myself. Are the shapes and shadows resurrected fragments of a long lost memory, or completely imagined? Where do these images come from, and how are they born? with these questions in mind, also asking the viewer to ponder upon their own inner images.