—Jules Michelet, quoted in The Poetics of Space

I began gathering Russian thistles with the idea that I would someday build a structure from the network of branches and thorns—a dwelling of passion, inhabited by the wind. As a child my play consisted of making sculptures from whatever debris I could find. I built spaces in trees, made dugouts in the ground.  These were safe places where I felt free to read, write poetry, sing, daydream, nap, and imagine what my life might be.  I realize now those habitable sculptures were extensions of my form, a place of stasis from which I could observe the enormity of the world and make sense of it – peering through its openings—watching dust float in the light, frame pieces of the sky.

Today, I live in the center of a city, in the middle of a desert surrounded on all sides by the enormity of the horizon. The environment is harsh. Everything is exposed. Nothing is hidden. I walk and forage in the dusty, hot landscape collecting seeds, bones, and other odd bits that most might overlook. My walks reveal fragile ecosystems, strange beauty – insights in detritus. What I see in these intimate viewings finds its way into my dreams. Dreams lead to poems. Poems lead me to what I create.  I hope to bring focus, a new way of seeing, a new life to the objects I find—collected specimens—ephemera preserved, protected.

I have been carrying the idea for a tumbleweed dwelling for a long time.  It wasn’t until I was revisiting The Poetics of Space that the concept took full form.  I began gathering tumbleweeds and collected the objects I found beneath them.  During this process, I decided to use the word “bower” as part of the title and when I began to research I came across the Bowerbirds—amazing architects and foragers.  I realized the bower I was creating was much like the ones they make.  I learned that the birds court mates by collecting brightly colored objects, organizing and creating elaborate displays within their nests.  The chandelier is homage to those lovely, strange birds. Sometimes I believe I become the space where I am. A space that sees and is formed by the rhythm of my heart and the pulse of my breathing.

 Installation opening will happen April 1, 2011

across the velvet dark,  60″ x 60″, resin, acrylic and shells on panel, 2010

36″ x 36″, resin and cicada wings on panel

On certain days,

pale dreams arrive,

become,

cusp            on the edge of absence.

Hearing lessons

note the truth-

knot the light.

In late January,

blue darkness

circles dreams,

seeds meditation.

The waiting place promises,        whispers:

                                                                             Where the past overlaps–

                                                                             all things become

                                                                                                                   stars.

In the blue of distance–

      above the dark night -

      a catch in breath,

      a certain pause.

I close my eyes

             wide.