This is land I love. It is the place of flying kites, quilting, Sunday dinners, board games, Tang, big laughter, quiet times. It is belonging and always being the odd one out. It is sunsets, the sweet/sour smell of spring, a breeze rustling the cottonwoods, flies buzzing, a slowly rising cool as twilight falls. It is where my mother’s ashes are scattered, and those of my grandparents.

It was home. In this body of work, I am exploring what it is to let it go. There is no map for this journey. My grandfather tells me it’s ok. My grandmother tells me I’m doing fine. The land tells me to follow the light.