“I live among diffuse shadings, veiled mysteries, uncertainties; the tone of telling my life is closer to that of a portrait in sepia.” – Isabel Allende, writer
My childhood was rich in stories of ghostly visitations, the histories of ancestors long dead, lost fortunes, scandals and superstition. A Peewee bird in the house was a portent of death, as was the sound of three knocks, knives should never be crossed and a dropped fork signaled the arrival of a lady. Each protagonist in these family tales was imperfect; torn edges, threadbare, stained. Many of my recollections over time have faded, others remain indelible. These small constructions of paper and fabric are a poetic response to those memories.