a chair for two shadows
2; object
Accompanying writing:
Everyday I get off work and I think about it on the train. The archways
glimmer past. I run home to draw and write until I plop down on my
bed exhausted. Everyday I live dwelling on this experience. I live in a
phantasmagoric fog.
These are endless days where I work on objects and drawings. I put
my hope in this: a real place someday, a dim light in a future that
looks foggy and rainy in my peripheral. These days are stained with
black coffee... wood dust on the floor... graphite marks on my desk
and hands. Sometimes I find peace in the monotone days because
the memories are so lovely. Sometimes I throw wood planks with
anger and yell at them. The memories are just too heavy.
(excerpt from the zine, a Dwelling for Two Shadows)
Everyday I get off work and I think about it on the train. The archways
glimmer past. I run home to draw and write until I plop down on my
bed exhausted. Everyday I live dwelling on this experience. I live in a
phantasmagoric fog.
These are endless days where I work on objects and drawings. I put
my hope in this: a real place someday, a dim light in a future that
looks foggy and rainy in my peripheral. These days are stained with
black coffee... wood dust on the floor... graphite marks on my desk
and hands. Sometimes I find peace in the monotone days because
the memories are so lovely. Sometimes I throw wood planks with
anger and yell at them. The memories are just too heavy.
(excerpt from the zine, a Dwelling for Two Shadows)
(pictured above, initial renderings)
