I conjure fanciful worlds of interiority using marine debris collected in my daily walks along the coastline of Martha's Vineyard. My objects and installations engage with ideas of play and the private non-verbal universe of imagination. Tides, winds and storms unearth mysterious, unrecognizable objects. A circular part of a toy, a metal coil, the tine of a plastic fork, a fragment of a boat. My collection is an archive of the unknown, an orphanage of debris. What was it, when it was shiny and new? Did it start its life close by or thousands of miles away? These questions swirl in my mind as I inspect the day's haul.

In an act of close attentiveness, I carefully wash, dry and sort the left behind pieces. Using my own idiosyncratic taxonomy, I arrange these curious beings on small blankets lined up in my studio. These foundlings assert qualities of shyness, confidence, pride and self-acceptance, and begin to form their own world. I attach them with wire to hand-pinched ceramic bases and frames, where they lean towards and away from one another in gestures of relation. In my world, pieces of debris reanimate into tender, hopeful characters of resilience.