MIRACLE GROWTHS
BENEATH MY HOME in New York, there used to be a manufacturer of booths for restaurants and diners. At night, they'd throw all their scraps of foam out in the garbage. I couldn't bare to see so much waste being hauled away each night en route to a landfill. So I'd take them up to the studio. I'd cut them up, stain them with paint, then reassemble them into what I've called "Miracle Growths". There are a number of stand alone pieces, and I've also imagined an installation in which growths shoot up from the floor, hang from the ceiling, and sprout from the walls and corners like coral gone haywire, each one with a single tiny thread leading back to dip into a glass of water sitting in the middle of the gallery floor. Are they a commentary on the state of our water supply? On chemical fertilization? Or the idea that miracles can blossom if we nourish them? I'm still deciding... and, yes—growing.