Over the past several years, my mind and my work have increasingly returned to the ideas of decomposition, transformation, and renewal. These are processes that occur constantly in nature. Fallen trees are covered with moss and slowly broken down into soil; birds gather dead twigs and grass to build a home. With time, effort, and attention, one can recreate these natural processes in one’s own environment: a plastic grocery bag is cut into strips and woven into a nest; newspaper is shredded, combined with flour and water, and molded to form an eggshell. Nothing is wasted.

In my latest body of work, which began on a farm in Wisconsin, I explore the idea of refuse as a refuge. With enough time and attention, is it possible for something discarded to become a source of shelter and hope? The barn swallows who surrounded me on the farm carefully layered mud and grass, one upon the other, until they formed a safe and strong dwelling for their young. In the same way, I gathered discarded materials from the surrounding area and used them to slowly build nests of my own. Although I cannot inhabit these dwellings, the process of making the nests has definitely become a source of refuge - a way to escape from the conventional manner of thinking and slowly build an alternative.

As others began saving materials for me, I began to think about how the value of something can change in a community. Will the value that I place on an object transfer to others as they begin to contribute to the process? As my friends and family familiarize themselves with materials they have grown accustomed to throwing away, its potential reveals itself. The chain of reuse which began with my neighboring barn swallows continues beyond me.