There was a moment in my studio when everything jelled. That was when things began mounting behind my head. Like ripples, the work emanated from the corner, infiltrating increasingly more studio space. Cut-outs hung like stalagmites; mounding floor-scraps piled high. I conjured a paper cave that was pregnant with vines and tendrils, but dark and imperme- able to weather, a safe place to wallow and hide.

That spring afternoon, the sun reached its particular zenith. It peaked over the awkward angle of my neighbor’s roof, its light shone through my lone window. When the beam broke through, my shadowy cave cracked open. The layers of cut paper and transparent color Plexiglas merged into a unified lightness. The density of the work coaxed the individual pieces to integrate into a unified whole. This unintentional mass of artwork momentarily became its own ephemeral cathedral. I soon regretted that there was, in fact, another purpose for the work, and that soon I would need to ship it 3,000 miles away. My intension for Dewdrop Redux was to take the first step in reclaiming that fleeting moment in the studio. I was offered the opportunity to recreate the sizable And Further the Dewdrop Falls installation, within the relatively petite project space at Long Beach City College. This allowed the work to be condensed in a comparable way to that of the studio formation. The result was analogous to both previous installations, but Dewdrop Redux was particularly successful in its merging of all the elements of video, paper cut-out, transparent cut-out, color, light, shadow, reflection and refraction into a critical amalgam that has not been realized in either of the previous two efforts.