Connection is not this fixed thing - it changes. I have connection to self, to “other”, to place and home, to memory, to a dream even, and then just like that, connection shifts, ruptures, gently breaks, and there is something new. I’m curious about this. #63 and #64 tell a story together. They belong together as diptych.

There was a rose garden I ran away to at the foot of our garden In Johannesburg, maybe to find myself, but often to chat about things with the roses. I did this with our budgies too. A budgie flies past Windy. Windy took care of all of us. She had her own babies back home too. A MOTHER to many. I was little and so her legs were in my eye-line and strangely that's what I remember... There is an angel - an homage to Chagall - the angel that is Monty and Mu hovering over home and then there was a repetitive dream in which I was visited by giant orcas swimming sometimes in the most unlikely and narrow of places.
There is process which sometimes clunky. That’s in there too and I like showing this… the ‘how’ we get there.