Actually the fact that my use of lines and that the dots seem to drop off the piece bother you works for me. I have to ask "why" does it bother you?
The fact that is bothers people got me thinking and jogged my memory on where I was going. Perception, memory and perception. I'm working on a series of 2D and 3D pieces for a body of work. Memory of land, memory of the women who came before me, the sacredness and solitude of barren places. Memory and perception of memories, how do we percieve the past? Things we've seen, places we've been, events that have happened, all personal here. How do they get distorted by time and distance?
The lichen encrusted fence posts were topped with cowboy boots of a teenager that died, he was the farmers only child, killed on about his 18th birthday but still in high school. The boots were this kids favorite possession, btw it was one of those weird vehicular accidents where a semi fell off a bridge onto the interstate below. The parents, the mother actually, dealt with her grief by putting the son's boots on the fence posts of the land he would have soon inherited, as they are nearing retirement now. The boots now have lichens growiing on them, many of the feet are gone, but the shaft part is still attached to the post, bound to the post with bindweed and morning glories. Hmmmmmm ok another idea. A life cut short? New life - lichens - memory, or the perception there of.
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