Flowers of Memory, Roots, and Family Migration were done after I had returned from Aland Island, the home of my grandmother Ellen. The energy behind this trip had much to do with my father’s death and wanting to somehow touch him again. It was also about finding a place to be connected to: physically in the land, emotionally with the people and spiritually in ways I don’t yet have words for.
Text: Where are we when our bodies no longer hold breath, slipping into nothing we have known before, a passing touch on the surface of what we used to hold fast to. Something called us here and something calls us away, each breath coming to life and each breath moving closer to losing what little we knew of ourselves. What is left? Even memory fades into pale tracings.