In From Albany to the Adirondacks, I imagined a dashed line
from my new location, my studio, to a distant peak in the mountains.
Each dash along this traverse provided a fresh datapoint on the map,
photographs of nondescript parcels of woods/field/city/neighborhood,
and a small sample of soil, the actual stuff of the landscape.
The excavated soil was transplanted to a re-engineered filing cabinet,
a familiar device for organizing the unfamiliar. The cabinet was
outfitted with a complex lighting and watering system to maintain
the growing samples, along with captioned photographs and maps to
provide context. All of these elements together constructed a kind of
spatially linear narrative of my temporally linear experience of these
specific locales, a story of the mental strategies (mapping,
photographing, collecting, organizing, labeling) I used to try to find
a connection with this environment. I hoped that the viewer would
experience the same shifts in perspective, from map to world to
gallery to map, that I did in constructing the work.