Featured in the back room at ESR in Milwaukee, WI August 30 - October 5, 2025. Bermuda Triangle bar (open during the opening reception) and prints (from 35mm half frame photos) and sculptures created during a 2025 residency at High Desert Test Sites in Joshua Tree, CA.
The sound of a siren echoed down the dirt road like it was coming from the bottom of a well. Pink clouds were drifting past the moon so you couldn’t tell if it was dawn or dusk. As it got darker, across the highway, there were explosions from the military base. I guess they were practicing.
This desert landscape had me missing the bottle green of the lake. A sturgeon slipping deep alongside the pier. Cooling winds came down from the mountains, across new snowfall, down into the valley and into town. The landscape, In total stillness, is all motion, critters working, winds moving and carving, movement in both geologic and specific time.
If you drive out there, look out west over the freeway and into the sun.
In the morning, the cool of the night and the heat of the morning will meet in ascending pearl grey wisps. Much further inland, the corn is sweating and creating its own climate, it’s so hot. The cat is asleep, but she’s always been between like that, dreaming.
When Danny died I dreamt of him every night for two weeks. I woke up confused, looking for his number in my contacts - “love you mucho”, old messages, the kind of friend who always said “ok, I love you”, sometimes it was annoying. I sleep walked a little in the day. In my head I was screaming his name between every thought, wondering how no one else could hear it.
Each of their voices lost and wishing I could somehow have recorded the way it felt to make them laugh or how I proud I was to be his friend. Carl’s name is echoing too, and my little orange cat, Oatie. Wishing each voice could be contained and called on like a ringing bell.
I found a notebook of Carl’s, how could I have forgotten I had something so precious? His handwriting was mostly a texture, almost totally incomprehensible. At the top of a page, with nothing below he wrote “hypnogogic”
I had to look it up, I thought about sleepwalking. I thought about the dreams. I went upstairs and found Oatie, he hadn’t died, somehow I made a mistake. I was so relieved but woke up weeping. Wondering if the little black cat who survived them all is dreaming too.