PAS CARTE (2021)
pencil, thread, and found objects on handmade sekishu paper; dimensions variable (40 pieces total)
When I first moved to Paris, I was struck by the lack of green space. The arrondissement in which I was living seemed an endless sea of concrete and stone, with nary a park in sight. Adjusting to a completely different language and culture was already tough, but as a person who usually finds comfort in nature, this seemed like an additional blow.
To explore my new surroundings, I began taking long walks each morning, and I formed a habit out of picking up tiny 'treasures': bits of nature that had somehow thrived in the city, despite the odds. As I collected these cherished reminders, I realized that I recalled where I found them each time I passed the same spot, so I began drawing maps to each one. In a way, marking down my ephemeral finds on the streets of Paris was a means of learning my way around the city.
pencil, thread, and found objects on handmade sekishu paper; dimensions variable (40 pieces total)
When I first moved to Paris, I was struck by the lack of green space. The arrondissement in which I was living seemed an endless sea of concrete and stone, with nary a park in sight. Adjusting to a completely different language and culture was already tough, but as a person who usually finds comfort in nature, this seemed like an additional blow.
To explore my new surroundings, I began taking long walks each morning, and I formed a habit out of picking up tiny 'treasures': bits of nature that had somehow thrived in the city, despite the odds. As I collected these cherished reminders, I realized that I recalled where I found them each time I passed the same spot, so I began drawing maps to each one. In a way, marking down my ephemeral finds on the streets of Paris was a means of learning my way around the city.
Perhaps useless as functional objects, these maps are nonetheless an indelible record of the process of discovery.
