Ideas of impermanence have always compelled me as my parents were refugees from Europe, each having lost, materially, everything. My father was very frugal and always wore shirts with holes in them. With a spirit of acceptance, pointing to the hole he would say, “This is life.” Perhaps because of this, I have collected and photographed remnants; pieces that tell of something more. I grew up aware of the sorrows of my parents’ backgrounds, and their stories are undercurrents in my work. Yet, a lighter side of loss is there too. Like a dandelion that has gone to seed, one wanderer’s exhale or one light wind and it disappears, blown away to take on new life, and eventually orbit back to its source.