{One moonlit night with little to no prospect of success.}
{A secret that proved harder by night to protect.}
{The passage home was long.}
{Before the others awoke.}
Yesterday, seated in a tiny café with a friend destined soon to traverse distant lands, Louise and I spoke of our printed zines and a little of our recent work for our exhibition forthcoming. To our friend and her silver recording device, we spoke of a sense of nostalgia that is never far from frame in both our individual work and our collaborative pieces.
A key to help make your own world visible is not so much a departure from previous work, but rather, it is a different element polished and brought to the fore. Some elements are new and others more familiar are still to be reshaped. All, we hope, shall have new light shed upon them, a different element lit, if you like.
Often our work is dotted with fragmented keepsakes, and that is especially true of the work we have created and are still in the middle of creating for this exhibition. Our keepsakes, our objects gathered, perhaps they are not all they appear at first cursory glance. Perhaps these objects, as Jean Cocteau mused, take "advantage of our habit of believing them to be immobile" (Jean Cocteau, Beauty and the Beast: Diary of a Film, Dover Publications, p.101.). I'd like to think the same applies to my animals that softly pad their way through a handful of recent postcard collages.
