"A great presence is hard to see. A great sound is hard to hear. A great figure has no form.”
As a child raised on a farm on the Canadian prairies, I came to know the world through literature. Tolstoy showed me the sights of Russia, Hesse’s Siddhartha took me to India, Dickens to England, and on and on. I was 15 when I stumbled upon Japanese Haiku. The illusive lines and syllables spurred my imagination. They were the beginning of the thread that was Japan and which would weave its way through my life.
kimono and the wind explores our intimate relationship with the natural world – visible and invisible. A series of deconstructed images of my experience standing on a broken chair in the middle of the Canadian prairies while wearing a kimono is the focal point. The worn silk garment - an unknown owner - charmed me. As it became more like the wind its relationship with my body took on a sculptural form. It was as if the kimono and I became one with something I could not see.
kimono and the wind - a visual series of syllables and lines - resists the tendency to be explicit. Images from my film and photography archives are re-photographed with instant film or reworked in my digital lab and transformed into unique art objects. Once printed on handmade Japanese paper they are painted with egg tempera (a mixture of egg yolk and wine) and precious pigments. Through this ancient and almost ceremonial process, the artworks of origin become de-contextualized, yet acutely alive and renewed. By stepping away from the virtual world of pixels and data I work to create an art object to engage the seer in a sensorial, intellectual and spiritual way to make visible that which is invisible.