A seminal image for me, buried in my childhood, is one that never existed. It contains a weathered fence, a fence post, unkempt grasses, dankness, discarded and rusted bits of past ideas but also sunshine and wild freshness. There is so much for me in that image ranging from the personal to the political: my tendency to solitude, my need to connect to a landscape, a distrust of suburbia as a way to organize ourselves, a desire to bridge the constructed gap between humans and nature, excrement and Ajax.
But I am a walking contradiction waiting for redemption – that sweet spot between two halves of a dichotomy where this is in conjunction with that. I am sparkling cannon fodder.