I have long been a collector of objects. A scrap of ribbon left behind, a thimble, a spoon. They often present themselves like talismans along the path -- common things, precious things, things that have been left behind. Perhaps, in some way, they have been left for me.

The first mobile in Shipwrecked began with materials that carried their own history. The black bamboo came from offcuts harvested from the grove at my childhood home in Topanga, while the spool of red string surfaced unexpectedly from a forgotten box in that same house. It was the quiet dialogue between these two elements -- the strength of the bamboo and the vivid, connective line of the thread, that inspired the work. Together they created a structure capable of holding memory.

As I began tying the collected objects into the framework, they started to tell a story. Their arrangement possessed a wistful, ghostly quality, and I imagined them as remnants from a grand ocean liner lost long ago. Washed ashore on a distant beach -- a spoon, a champagne cork, freshwater pearls and china, evidence of lives once lived and stories now beyond reach. Shipwrecked became an exploration of absence, preservation, and the quiet poetry of what remains.

The collection consists of five mobiles. When the spool of red string was finally finished, the work came to its natural conclusion.

These works are an invitation to contemplate the fragments we inherit, the histories we construct from what survives, and a reminder to remember the things we'll never know.