Investigating the life of things across space and time

Making

Archeological leaps into the unknown made possible through drawing, collage, print and performance.

Stories, poetry and hybrid writing...

Flint: A pair of white gloved hands holding an invisible rock between them, against a black background

Flint

Teller 1: They are throwing stones again. The siren pulses through the streets, bouncing off the buildings almost as loudly as the glassy meteorites that cannot be cut or drilled by any material other than their own.

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Stink: A white gloved right hand viewed side on against a black background beckons to an unseen presence

Stink

He is a red man all over, everyone can smell it. Even through the jasmine oil I apply so liberally before each shave he reeks of rusty iron and musk like the heavy gate to the bull’s field that was left open last year. I prattle on about the weather and tug my comb through his beard with my fingers crossed. Every time I snag on a knot I wince, afraid by the size of his huge hairy fists and the bulk of him sprawled across my biggest chair.

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