Pocket Canyon
In the winter of 2010 my dad, daughter and I made a pilgrimage to Pocket Canyon, the place I was born many years ago in rural Northern California. Though uninhabited and completely derelict, the house I was born in still stands as does the bizarre wedding-cake style home of my parent’s former land-partners. In the body of work that resulted from this trip, I explore some of the contradictions I feel for this place; I focus partially on my childhood fantasy of the “good life” in Pocket Canyon --the colors, textures and patterns of the hippy life-style we lived back then-- and partially on the concrete reality of what is there, the general sense of entropy that permeates our former property.
