The places of our lives are embedded in us. We feel a sense of belonging or connection with a location because it leaves traces within us. The tactile experiences of a place; the way the ground feels under our feet, the humidity of the air, the smells and sounds experienced all leave a memory trace. Tracing is also an action; to follow an outline or shape, recreating an image. In this work I hand-traced the patterns of a rug that is disintegrating from age and wear, translating them into glass.

This rug was given to me by my parents when I was young and it was already old. Now I have owned it for over three decades carrying it from home to home as I move. The time spent to trace each woven motif was a practice in remembering; the rooms it inhabited and the people and pets that walked, sat, and lay on it. As I physically traced the rug I thought of the traces of places and people that still exist within the fibers. Remnants from its time with me as well as the life it had before I owned it. Like the rug, we carry places within us. These embodied traces tie us to settings of our past

The kiln-fired glass powder creates paper-thin sheets so fragile the edges continue to break off with each handling, much like the way the fibers in the original rug are being worn away through use. Installed at varying heights, these fragmented layers evoke a sense of terrain, and the sparkle of the glass shimmers like that of distant memories.