In the dimmed light my imagination takes over and I create what I want to see. Making work allows me to wade through memories - the raspberries that grow through the fence that my grandmother picks, playful days running within expansive fields of corn, quiet afternoons under shade crushing leaves from the lemon tree. Diversity remains within the garden that I create, but in the dimmed light differences are likely to dissolve. I blend easily into my surroundings, challenging myself to acknowledge the ways in which we are indistinguishable. My garden is watched over by my ancestors, from pot to body to plant to hair, I engage the past to form the future.