Rhododendron leaves, cotton thread, milk paint, soil

Created in response to the prompt 'what is the question that haunts you when you sit on the land you are on?' This piece materially engages with fragility and decay, as the sewn leaves dry and deteriorate over the course of weeks, and the biodegradable paint, made from flour and baba's milk, begins to flake and fall and becomes quickly illegible if not continually repainted.

The red dirt that dusts the letters was harvested from the roots of a fallen tree on Bull Mountain, newly exposed post-storm. This material was stored within the earth for centuries, then held in a baby's fist for an afternoon.