Entering the woods you access the images stored in my mind. My mother passed away but I sense her presence. 

She walks behind my back. I can’t see her face so I paint it as I remember it. I paint her to stop her from 

vanishing all together. 

The moments captured on canvas are familiar to me thanks to the photographs. To recall them I have to recreate 

them from scratch. I make people and places immortal. They are staged in their moments of life. I make my 

presence by looking at them. I reincarnate the past with the pain of loss. 

To escape the reality I walk into the woods. I enter my world of memorized details. I paint to recall what 

I have come to know. Doing so I am an observer of a human evanescence. I dedicate my work to those who I have 

loved the most. I am searching for them all over again in the woods of my remembrance. 

All what happened imprints the present. I document that. There is no beginning and there is no end.

Imagine wandering in the woods. Now, you behold my childhood as I know it only. 

Do you see that little girl? Can you see your own forest of memory?