Almost a self-portrait—a reflection onthe naval, a scar we all share that signifies a separation from a source. Expulsion and exile, these are realities I’mcontending with. Made by pouring plasterinto a bassinet sized box lined with soft muslin and submerging into thesurface a bundle of dyed, hand wound cord. This cord was violently extracted upon drying, but not before theplaster stole some of its color. Thishand wound cord is an ongoing side practice of mine, one which I don’t yetunderstand even as it rapidly accumulates. Perhaps I am measuring distances or seeking to bind things to me.