The works in this series were inspired by my houseplants and their quiet presence in my home. I have a ritual of sorts in which I go around the rooms every week watering, dusting, spraying and pruning all the plants. One day, as I swept up a pile of small leaves and roots that I had trimmed, I decided to make prints of them instead of throwing them out. For the next few weeks, I rolled my weekly trimmings with inks, watercolors and acrylic paints on a flexible plate, testing various natural and synthetic papers. As I worked, I noticed that the trimmings only made clear imprints when fresh. Trimmings that were more than a few days old left a ghostly impression or white cutout instead. Using the monoprints as an initial record, I built on the works with my mark making, occasionally cutting and reassembling them into collages. I found myself grappling with how elusive imprinting can be, hard to form, hard to preserve, like memory and recollections. And yet, the silent silhouettes of the leaves and roots that failed to imprint, like keyholes, revealed the exact shape of what was missing, somehow giving me an assurance that those who came before us might have built doors, but also left us the keys.

Many of works are presently on loan at the offices of Symbiome Capital in Bethesda, Maryland