THE GATHERING
A bouquet is a gift when invited to dinner, a pop of color in the corner of a room, an apology, sympathy, love. It was an act of devotion to create this 8x10' bouquet. I traisped through weeds and brambles along the bank of a river. I ripped out wild cucumber vines. Milkweed pods spilled open, thorns scraped my cheeks, twigs raked through my hair. The bouquet swirled together with physicality, full of energy. It wilted, drooped, and shed over the life of the exhibit, but still held its form.
A bouquet is a gift when invited to dinner, a pop of color in the corner of a room, an apology, sympathy, love. It was an act of devotion to create this 8x10' bouquet. I traisped through weeds and brambles along the bank of a river. I ripped out wild cucumber vines. Milkweed pods spilled open, thorns scraped my cheeks, twigs raked through my hair. The bouquet swirled together with physicality, full of energy. It wilted, drooped, and shed over the life of the exhibit, but still held its form.