When I was young, I was a magpie; I had a habit of picking up any small, shiny trinket I came across and stashing them in “treasure boxes,” many of which I've kept to this day. A shiny pebble from a park I frequented, a broken charm from the sidewalk outside my childhood home, a bright pink sequin from the floor of my mom's favorite clothing shop. I've been amazed at how these small, innocuous objects have acted as capsules for some of my earliest memories, vivid, though fragmented. This piece mirrors how I experience these memories, a small, unassuming motive blossoming quickly into a short, vivid capsule of an idea.
When I was young, I was a magpie; I had a habit of picking up any small, shiny trinket I came across and stashing them in “treasure boxes,” many of which I've kept to this day. A shiny pebble from a park I frequented, a broken charm from the sidewalk outside my childhood home, a bright pink sequin from the floor of my mom's favorite clothing shop. I've been amazed at how these small, innocuous objects have acted as capsules for some of my earliest memories, vivid, though fragmented. This piece mirrors how I experience these memories, a small, unassuming motive blossoming quickly into a short, vivid capsule of an idea.
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