A moment of contact imparts a history of lives. Traces become evidence
of journeys, and surfaces reveal memory.
The traces of those who have moved passed this room, impressions made
in their daily life are captured, bringing back to life moments of contact
The room is a bedroom - a child's bedroom perhaps. From every window
in the house there are glimpses of mountain views that surround us.
Picture postcard mountain views in the distance.
The room - a room to me - I know no one who has lived here. I come to
take from it - it is given to me - I hope to give too.
The balsa wood spoon, sensuous and fragile, is a symbol - a metaphor
for giving - the giving of sustenance. It is a giving up - a giving
A dream perhaps - the feeling that one is left with when one wakes.
Trying to grasp into the thickness of sleep to understand the absurdity,
the incongruity of the feelings.
Suspended disk of mirror and a window piled with stones held by spider
web threads and pins. Holding it from falling, from spilling - from
slipping into consciousness from the softness and the equilibrium of
" In the tightly knit world of Italian fashion access to the
finest fabrics comes only with the right credentials "
HARPERS & QUEEN May 1998.
There is a world far away from the stunning beauty of Otira. A glimpse
seen in a magazine, shoes that can have no place here, except in the
imagination of the woman who's moment of fantasy takes her away.