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Hidden, yes. Not with much effort, no. Simply in plain sight, but omitted from mention, and with averted eyes misdirect attention. I am armoured in metaphors, surrounded by an impossible forest. A play of mirrors reflect safe meanings glazed over barely proper imagination. Those open secrets, simmer inside me, flushing heat into my face, and people would think, what a shy person. But I am shameless, really, if you only knew. Hidden between prey and predator, playing both sides, invisible. I have sewn my mouth shut to keep all the dangerous words in the dark of my heart, tangled up in the unnamed desires writhing there, all day, all night. No one can even begin to know the springs from which the rivers flow that feed the roots of these impossible flowers, nor the depths of the ocean into which dreams ripen into ravenous insatiable hungers, waiting blindly, silent mouths half open, a multitude of arms held out ready to take and be taken.  If You Pay Attention (2017) Gouache and Inks on Black Paper
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STORIES are what happen in the Impossible Garden & the Wildforest. They are the overheard conversations, the gossip of the flowers and the trees, the fragments written on bones and stones. They are the secrets whispered by the wind, the tales of the stars, the knowledge earned or traded with the forest dwellers. They are the fairy tales that had been forgotten or never told. They are the rules and the history and how they are repeatedly broken and rewritten. They are the murmurings of magic, the language of hidden love, the wildness beneath every order and the pattern beneath every chaos. They are truths and they are lies and in the end they are real to those who have the heart to see.
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