The Things That Remember

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been sharing a body of work I call the Unbelongings.

They are complete pieces. Finished, named, ready to go where they need to go.

They don’t ask for context.

They don’t require a backstory.

They simply wait to be recognized.

But they are not the only things I’ve been working on.

The Unbelongings came from a place of drawing and discovery. Each one arrived whole, as if it already knew who it was. I met them one at a time. Gave them names. Let them stand on their own.

Alongside them, another body of work began to form. More slowly. Less cooperatively.

Some objects don’t arrive empty.

They arrive carrying something.

These pieces resisted being finished in the usual way. They didn’t want to become illustrations or characters. They didn’t want to be explained all at once. They felt more like fragments. Evidence. Things found rather than made.

They asked me to listen instead of decide.

I’ve come to call these pieces Story Relics.

That name feels important, but I’m not ready to explain them fully yet. They are still doing what they need to do. They are still holding what they carry.

What I can say is this: the Unbelongings and the Story Relics exist side by side. One body of work is self-contained. The other remembers where it came from.

Both will be present on January 31.

You’ll be able to encounter the Unbelongings as they are. You’ll also be able to see the Story Relics in person, where their weight and texture make more sense than any explanation could.

Some pieces are ready to leave.

Some are still waiting to be recognized.

Thank you for staying curious with me.

Some stories don’t want to be told.

They want to be held.