My widowed mother has come a long way. She is finally keeping up with what she truly wants to do and it's really just, her, enjoying life. I discovered this by making a surprise visit and seeing my childhood backyard inundated with birdhouses. Most of these feeders are small cabins or houses named after her cat, Spookey. Family friend Scott, and her seems to wish this cat great hunting pleasure and play in visits paid for by the birds.
This was found after crashing at my work friend's house one morning down a bike path in Somerville. It sparked the idea of what trash can emulate. In this scenario, the ripped tin foil reminded me similarly to the experience of coming across a dead bird.
This last work was done spontaneously upon stumbling across a pile of wooded boards left over from a collapsed bookshelf. I was reminded of the act of considering compositional arrangement of objects. The work was displayed on the street in a Mondrionesque fashion for one to aloofly discover or ponder over. This was a collaborative experience that intuitively happened.
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