In a beehive there are many different kinds of worker bees. Scout bees—the outriders, the gumshoes—are the trailblazer bees of the hive. Intently winging around to nose out fresh sources of pollen, they communicate their finds by means of an intricate aerial ballet, swooping and swaying midair, announcing new discoveries, astonishingly, based upon the location of the sun.

That search for pollen, for a sensed revelation, is both the catalyst and the incitation that propels my creative practice. Gathering, scrunching, creasing, folding and cutting the lamina of memory and uncertain fabric, the core of my process seems to be a precarious balancing act between spontaneity and sagacity, whimsy and double take. I’m not sure if this is engendered by a lifelong coexistence with restlessness or a curious predilection for indeterminacy.