A magpie, I am hopeful, not vicious.
I remember the cat dragging the preserved and desiccated corpse of a magpie from the chimney. She had been agitated for some time, but we didn’t know why. (The magpie was almost as big as she was.)
I start with something found or captured or stolen (a view, styrofoam, a root, plastic balloons, images from the internet). To work is to excavate. To lay down layers and take them up again. I am haunted by the potential of found and created materials to reveal shared hopes, dreams, and nightmares. Grouped together they are an invitation – into a house I do not own and will never live in.