Miniature oil paintings on a found collection of matchbooks, map the travel across America of the original anonymous collector from the middle of last century, and present us with the view from the collector's eyes

"I was halfway across America,

at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future." Jack Kerouac

I am an identity thief.


A collector of other peoples memories. Endlessly fascinated with how we, as humans, engrain our existence, our experiences and memories, onto a place or a object, and how we hoard and collect, perhaps as means of reasoning with our own mortality.

There is something both fascinating and melancholy about items 'left behind'. Tangible containers of memory, frozen in time somewhere between cherished and forgotten. I find myself forever seeking to ensure that the small memories, the narratives of others are kept alive.

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