The spark for this box was the intimacy and power of the photograph which was
used of a father and his three daughters. I set about trying to separate and illuminate
each of the daughters' pensive and clouded faces without actually cutting the photo itself.
I accomplished this by suspending lenses of different focal length in front of each of the girls.
In person the result is an unsettling three-dimensional display due to the varying focal properties
of the lenses, some of the faces receding in darkness while others thrust forward, pleading.
Only the father's face is open to the air.

There is in front of the group, a tabletop of sorts. A recess in the surface reveals a bone under glass,
cushioned in fur. On the table lies a scattered still-life: a balled-up piece of old map,
corked glass vial containing a fly, and a goblet and glass sphere, both sprouting deer fur.
The housing for this piece is an old fire-alarm box, which in retrospect is quite appropriate
for the broken family within. This was a significant work for me, as it marked the first
time I allowed, even encouraged, the wiring to be visible, an integral factor in the design.
This attitude let me see these boxes as instruments in themselves, capable of
deciphering some scientific or natural mysteries.


Doom. / Lamentation. / Dominion. / Regret. 1995

Fire-alarm box, griddle cord, lamp cord, carnival lights, basswood, lenses, photograph, bone, vial, straw, 18th century map, deer fur, pewter cup, fly, glass, hardware, brass rod, paper, text, soil.