It’s fascinating to me how certain experiences can be remembered in vivid detail, while some memories seem to drift further away every time you desperately attempt recalling them. The way the sun brushed up against your cheeks during your first kiss, or how the splintered edge of the windowsill snagged your sweater every time you opened it to gaze at the stars; these once bright moments slowly begin to converge and lose their original shape. They become edged in shadow, and negative spaces start to form around the dialogue, the colors seem to dull, and pretty soon you’re grasping at smoke. I wanted to recreate this feeling, this repetition of stitching broken moments and gently knitting them back together into something resembling a whole memory; but realizing that there will always be missing details. Taking designs from both my own memories and photographs of my past, I drew then overlapped botanical and architectural elements until they resembled something new yet familiar. I’ve attempted to imbue the metal with a feeling of soft tension, as if the memory is present yet sitting just out of reach.