In my latest work, I am pursuing the ideas of memory, communication, and ritual. I believe it is vital to human existence to reestablish identity through personal objects such as keep-sakes, old letters, and worn clothing. These familiar objects describe personal histories. I began to think of the written letter, as I have always been an avid letter writer, and how important it seemed to be to save received letters.

These letters became a metaphorical stitching-together of personal histories. In spite of technological advances such as email, I treasure the physicality of the written word on paper sent over many miles. I hear the voice of the sender from the written words. I have dated and signed my personal history for an eager reader.

The dilemma for me is what to do with all the received letters, how to preserve them as I cannot bear to throw them out. Some of them ask to be destroyed, while others call to be reread. To preserve the letters is to seal them from probing eyes, to give them a proper burial, so I can free myself from the actual paper letter and preserve their voices in my memory. I preserved these letters in wax, never again to be read, sent or received, yet they transcend this truth to stand for the strength of the written word. By doing this, I have lost the letters, just as when I write and send a letter, I lose it. In both cases, they can be kept alive in my memory.