I walked into my studio this afternoon and knew immediately that one of my chickens was out. I followed the footprints coming out of the wet pile of clay that I had left slaking down on the concrete floor. The footprints went under the car, over the vacuum cleaner, and around the veranda back to the chicken coop and straight to Parvati, the undeniable culprit with white feet. What body language can you read in a chicken's face?
This work is called 'Blanketed'. When I was making it, I was thinking about the incredible diversity of life on earth and how each species is so precious.
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