I move through spaces that are no longer the same.
The familiar becomes a stranger. It whispers, Where have you been?
Shaped by the everyday movement, care, and loss, time reveals itself in fleeting fragments. Leaves rustling as you look out the window, a crease in a cloth, a garden I so desperately try to tame. Memory is my ruler, but it does not measure in straight lines. It bends, detours, and decides on its own. Suddenly, an abstracted thought from 1998 slips through. Is my mind deceiving me?
I jolt back to the present, where the textures are familiar, but not the same.
How do we map impermanence? I turn to objects that carry time: a pillowcase worn thin by sleep, blades of grass swaying with the breeze, silverware passed from another generation.
In these works, I attempt to hold the movements that leave no trace—looking through a window, eating, sitting, walking. Gestures that vanish almost as soon as they appear, like sand slipping through my fingers.
I invite you to an ever-changing landscape, one that does not seek to be whole.
Akin to cloth that takes the shape of the wearer
Akin to grass that follows the movement of the breeze
Notes by Regina Reyes
