This little work is adapted from an old family photo. It is about how our past returns to us as echoes. Is it only chance that I am standing watch … soberly observing and acting as conscientious baby sitter … while my little sister blithely takes off on her first adventures hair flying like a flag? A thousand years have passed and we still could audition for the same roles, but the stage would not be those cracked cement sidewalks, and our props something other than an old rattletrap tricycle and scuffed shoes.
The work is like the echo of an old tune or the creak of the beat-up pedals on that old tricycle that were really too hard to work if you were that small so instead you stood on the back and pushed. Did I teach her that, I wonder? The vast and exciting world that lay ahead for both of us is like the negative space that visually locks us into our little world, protecting us from harm. Photos from the past are like that … moments forever preserved. A single instant in an infinite number. The joy of being able to capture that moment once again is enriched if one takes the time to examine it through the lens of experience.