Sometimes, just as we are taking in the changes to our local landscape, it changes again. Our memories are often replaced with such speed, that we have very little time to digest what surrounds us. This rapid layering of memories makes it difficult to see what is in the present or what is directly in front of us. Often the industrial and utilitarian aspects of these details are the first things to be edited out of our vision, just as familiar buildings are edited out of our daily commute until suddenly, one day, they are demolished.
When this happens, we are momentarily jarred from this blindness and experience a sense of loss and confusion. Similarly, this is how we adopt a coping process that edits out the real nature of what is around us.

So what is it that we tend to edit out in order to cope with the velocity of change? When we look at a building,for example, we see its surfaces and colours but we rarely notice worn edges, chips in the paint or small
perforations in the surface. These things that have been bent to the will of the elements, or worn through the process of being used to construct other objects, are usually aspects we tend to ignore. In fact, not only do we not see these aspects, we’re not even aware that we don’t see them.

This is a kind of spell that the busy-ness of our world casts that interferes with our ability to see. I am interested in breaking this spell. I want to be present to my world and to experience what is in front of me and see the elements in metal and other surfaces that are in the process of returning to their natural state. When I force myself to really look at what I’m seeing, I’m actually breaking that spell. What I see is full of colour, texture and unique forms. These unique forms emerge as abstract landscapes to my eye and are filled with energy and a serene beauty.