There is a quiet joy in how this collection unfolds, a gentle revealing of time, like light filtering through the trees of a place we once knew. The Way History Exists in Fragments does not ask us to mourn the past—it invites us to celebrate it, to dance in its echoes, to find love in the traces it leaves behind.
At its heart is flight—a vintage image of birds caught mid-air, a breathtaking suspension between where they’ve been and where they’re going. Their movement is effortless, almost musical. In this moment, we see ourselves: always in motion, always yearning, always tethered to the places that shaped us. But there is no loss here—only a quiet reassurance: the places we love never truly leave us. They remain.
In another mixed media piece, a softened, reimagined landscape emerges—black and white photos of New York City’s parks, no longer fixed in time, but fluid, shifting, touched by memory, weather, and the hands of artists before us. The sand, the layered paint, the ghostlike brushstrokes—they do not erase the city. They turn it into a poem, a love letter to all who have walked its paths.
And then there is the vintage ACK piece, repainted and reframed. Its form is shaped by rows of nails, their shadows casting a pattern that shifts with the light. ACK—(the airport code for Nantucket) stands as a constellation of place. For the artist, both New York City and Nantucket exist this way—homes held in the heart, stitched into memory. This is not a piece about longing—it is about return, about the undeniable pull of places that make us feel most at home.
Together, these works do something extraordinary: they celebrate time not as something that slips away, but as something we carry, something that grows more luminous with every passing year. They remind us that love—for a place, a moment, the people who have walked beside us—does not fade. It transforms.
Standing before this gallery wall, one does not feel the weight of time. One feels its embrace.
