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...

The kiss: a single left hand floats against a black background

The kiss

In the end, it was neither a flash nor a tunnel. The kiss had lived through many breaths and many stories, from the eager tongues of fairytale princes to the dry rubbery gums of the dying in hospital beds. Once there had even been a woman who changed into a pillar of salt.

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Plot: White gloved hand holding an open box

Plot

The crowd watches as she walks forward and unthreads a pale rose. Its thornless stem, shaven into meek concave depressions, fits her fingers.

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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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