2005 (New York)
And when white moths were on the wing,
And moth-like stars were flickering out,
I dropped the berry in a stream
And caught a little silver trout.
This work is a memorial for a dead moth that I found stuck to my friend’s kitchen wall. The digitally collaged images in the book source from photographs taken during various periods of my life and therefore serve to create a kind of jumbled personal scrapbook traversed by the flight of a departed spirit.
The book traveled the U.S. and Canada on the now defunct Mobilivre Bookmobile, thereby furthering the afterlife journey of the work’s protagonist by many many miles.