Archival Digital Print
Carbon Pigment on 100% Cotton Paper
42 x 60 cm
Edition of 10
I recall my first experience of remembering a dream. I was about 4 years old at the time and dreamt of two foxes wearing grey suits standing in front of a house in the woods.
My father explained that the pictures I saw were dreams created by tiny fairies who crept into our eyes when we are asleep. He said the fairies also had very good manners and wiped their feet in the corners of our eyes before entering, so as not to leave dirt in our eyes. From that day forward, I was fascinated with my dreams and the little bit of fairy dust at the corners of my eyes each morning.
As an adult, I have noticed that my dreams are effected by the experiences of my waking life. When I am happy and well, they are strange celebrations of the imagination. When I am stressed for extended periods of time, my dreams disappear all together or take me back into the problems that have caused anguish during the day. As these boring reruns play over and over in my mind, any possibility of a decent night's sleep vanishes. Strangely enough, the main protagonists in these re-runs usually also wear suits.