Last year I moved into an empty white box, my very own office space at home. It’s a small room previously occupied by my partner - just the right size, shape and atmosphere for me. My optimism for a fresh start propelled me into “interior design mode” and like any new creative opportunity, I dove right in. Incandescent potential was waiting for me to explore the curatorial possibilities.

So I began: Keeping in mind my viewing audience during video calls, minimalism informed my choices. I treated the backdrop behind me like a painting and carefully considered what was allowed to show up within the edges of the frame. Likewise, what appeared to the sides and above packaged my silhouette specifically and strategically. I considered how the big picture and the details could float in parallel. A few dominant pieces created specific focal points of interest as visual exclamations to guide the eye and help the viewer understand the whole as a unified composition. 

More importantly, this office is a reflection of time. Since I first occupied the space, it has slowly transformed into a sanctuary where my crystals and books found places to proliferate freely. Mail, folders, shoes, bags, and wall hangings rest within and around the gaps, creating visual clutter. But this is what time does…it shapes, it fills, it moves and swells with the memories and objects that define us moment to moment. Time needs a place to nest. The actual time it has taken for my office to bulge with these signifiers has passed, but that time is reliably remembered by a trail, a stack, a group of jagged forms. My collections are the markers of time with memories attached like little barnacles deep within the sea of memory.