Much of art tries in vein to express sensory experience.

Sand and The Memory of Myself

When children find themselves by fine wet sand, one of the first things they do is to press their open hands into it. They pull back and look at something only they can leave. This is their hollow proof  to change the world, the affirmation of existence  at a time and place. I continue to enjoy walking bare foot on a beech of sand laid silky smooth by the falling sea.

In part, I make in hope the memory of myself is not washed clean by the coming tide.

The qualities of life we feel appear so simply, and yet the moment I attempt to capture even the most straight forward of my collisions with the world, like walking in the sand, I loose all but a glimpse of the subtlety and strength of my encounter.

As I walk I not only feel the soft warmth of countless grains, but you with me.

Art brings together so that I may return. With the title of this work I place myself, ready for my search to be with you in mind, and as I feel, in body.

The 'you' is different from one person to the next.

Art transends the individual experience as it speaks in tongues far distant from my own.

. . .