Every morning for several months,
I gathered leaves and weeds, stems and roots from a cemetery.
Intertwined, an occasional dead ant/butterfly.
Imprints of life within a space of death...
Persistent signs of life amidst decay...

The studio became a place where nature got immortalized
through the process of print making...
Leaves and weeds are pressed upon each other,
layer after layer of ground,
some deep and others superficial.

This repetitive act of taking impressions was like taking a journey...
Into the depths of the metal plate, into the earth...

Leaves and weeds sank deeper and deeper into the plate.
Creating an intricate etched mesh.
Each element losing its individuality to become one whole...

The surrendering of my own body into this landscape...
I become a human automaton
through my own unguided pre-recorded voice,
I walk through the landscape, into the darkness...

With each mark I make, my body becomes a testament to my breath...