I spend time collecting objects for drawing at the Leslie Spit, a man-made, clean fill site that juts into Lake Ontario on the eastern side of the city of Toronto. The Spit is a magical place, straddling the natural and manufactured worlds, where carefully sorted rebar, bricks, shattered ceramic tiles and twisted wires all harmoniously co-habit a built landscape with migrating birds, wild flowers, wind and waves. The discards are worked on by natural forces, resulting in objects whose crisp original identity has been blurred. Although sometimes revealing clues as to their original purpose, they now reside in a shifted state where other possibilities reside.
coloured pencil, graphite on paper
