Still detectable in my art and literary endeavours the Marian influence from my childhood, from before I turned 11 and refused to confirm in The Catholic Church - which, incidentally, led to my entire family leaving the church. Our world is stitched upon THE world like a dress upon a form. The white clothing is partly the "form" and partly spectral, or ghostly. We could project words upon them, and address the ephemeral that way, but this somehow relegates the actual presence of the individual item to the symbolic. By inscribing the objects with stories, poems, letters (not sent), journal entries, dreams and memories, plus an essay and a few other items, we force the form into evanescent specificity. One afternoon alone in the basement of our house I examined the fireplace which had been built but never made functional, and wondering about this realized I was thinking and questioning, and suddenly I became me.