2026.

​

My grandfather devoted his life to acquiring broken things only so he could fix them again—seldom carefully, usually chaotically, but always in a way that made sense to him. Many of my fondest memories consist of watching him tinker in his workshop or driving around town in his truck. This series of screen prints captures these nostalgic places and the eventual reclamation of nature that has occurred on his property in the years since his passing. In his absence, grief has become tangible, choking the landscape that once thrived under his care. Inspired by this, the images reflect a personal homecoming: an act of reimagining his memory while restoring the sense of color and care he brought to my life. 

​

The use of analog printing is visually influenced by both Andy Warhol’s prolific screen prints and the concept of memory reconstruction. Much like memory, these images are not reflections of truth, but recreations of the past. Screen printing makes this process physical by breaking an image apart, layer by layer, and rebuilding it again—never recorded the same way twice. These prints are my way of returning to him through that instability, where grief transforms remembrance into an ongoing reconstruction. His presence is not fixed, but continually remade—seldom carefully, usually chaotically, but always in a way that makes sense to me.