Alien home

My home is made out of moments between places and their circumstances.

For the past 4 years I have taken myself away from the comfort of my shelter. To live alone in a city filled with millions of strangers to discover who I am as an artist but also as a person. I have realized what makes me an artist is the material I use comes from a place beyond books and imagination but from emotional resource. The emotional resource is the reality I had to live through, and as a child, what I always questioned. And as an adult how it has become a burden in my life, because I have not been able to understand why. I use fabrics, yarn, paint, real life materials, because I need to touch. I need to feel, I need to cut, I need to tear, pieces that don’t go together, but that I can place together within stitching, gluing, and collaging. There has been a cloud filled with guilt shadowing over me. As I continue to create I tend to fade that cloud away to find closure.

Unknown to its territory
Unable to locate
Unable to relocate
Unable to move forward
Unable to move backward
Constant movement
She is within her home
Stands alone
Between spaces and places
Between circumstances
Not mattering where she began
Not mattering where she ends
Constant movement
To a place
Where the ground is still