Drawing and photography are central to my practice. Both make pressing - if sometimes fictitious - claims to the capture of lost moments.



I have to be away from here for a while.

If you were coming in the Fall,
I'd brush the summer by
With half a smile and half a spurn,
As housewives do a Fly.

If I could see you in a year,
I'd wind the months in balls –
And put them each in separate Drawers,
For fear the numbers fuse –

If only centuries, delayed,
I'd count them on my Hand,
Subtracting till my fingers dropped
Into Van Diemens Land.

If certain, when this life was out –
That yours and mine, should be,
I'd toss it yonder like a Rind,
And take Eternity – 

But now, uncedrtain of the length
Of this, that is between,
It goads me, like the Goblin Bee –
That will not state – its sting. 

                     Emily Dickinson

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