The title, a line from the poem “Paper” by Carl Sandburg, was watermarked into the cotton rag paper, which was then burnt and folded to form 20 pockets that make up the pages of this book. Each pocket contains a semi-translucent abaca sheet with printed image & text: phenomenological musings on a series of dreamscapes & architectural spaces. The 20 texts were based on writings done from my dreams in the months after 9/11. 

 

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Other thoughts: 

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Being obsessed as all New Yorkers were obsessed with the events that had transpired on 9/11, I made art: Actually it seemed that half of the artists in NYC made work & the other half stopped working altogether. During the months after 9/11, I found myself dreaming each night of architectural environments and I began recording those dreams, which was the starting point for this book.

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Dedicated to Dan Frankfurt, who taught me so much about built spaces.

 

From the book:

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The building went up quickly: frontwall foundation - scratched, boarded, rods poured, - done. Studs in doors windows ... tar paper sealed, screening and then stucco. An onion with its layers put back into place. And before I knew it, the space became a part of that which was always here -- memory of earlier times of different spaces fading silently and swiftly.