My work in the last six or seven years has been mainly scuplture and installation pieces made from thin handmade flax paper, wood, antique Japanese cloth, and flax string. I think of them as abstracted household objects, cups, boards, tables, quilts, a tent. They come from some other time and place, fragile artifacts. The nests too are empty, waiting.

Natural flax has the same range of wonderful neutral, colorless-color we find in old linens. Flax pulp, beaten for many hours, poured thin on a vacuum table, dried under pressure becomes smoother, tough and translucent. The pulp, full of water gleams, then disappears unders blankets and blotters and boards to dry in secret. The paper emerges as different from what the artist has planned. For me, this is somehow related to home, contemplation, and silence. Much is left for the viewer to decide.