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Where dreams of unrealistic support (8X4) I make to mark. To stand as witness to the births and deaths. Witness of those who pass without monuments. I grieve to give. Giving value to what has gone. Forming a headstone of what was once whole. The whole of mother and child. Whose titles only serve to recognize existence of the other implied in the relationship. I make to know. I know I have mourned the loss of my childhood A passage I killed with self imposed responsibility of care and carefulness surrounding the illict and explict. It is through no letting go that our hands have scabbed over. The fear of in grown nails has been banished from your nightmares as the in from one has become out grown in the other. These nerves ceased to make my knees shake as we move free form on our own accord satisfyingly snapping a layer of ice. Penetrating parts I never cared to know the name of. We grew together. I made me be. You were a articulation of a need, to leave, to be free, to be rid of her, in order to see me. I did not speak of this decision or the knowledge that I would be partnered to perch in the corner of a tree, named after a mind, where a bug eyed man-child knew the weather ahead of time. For now I can see! Looking through from where I now was and had wanted to be. To a scene where I cannot find the parts of two that made us three.

Unrealistic support was the most painful work I have completed to date. Though solving this visual puzzle in no way approached the anguish of its subject matter as a coming of age story. I am curious to why this piece was so difficult. Looking back on the creation of Unrealistic support now that I am intimate with my Division III as a whole body of work I realize that it is the only piece that began as a particular size and remained unchanged. I was forced to work within the confines of what was already a delineated space.