On a trip home shortly after my mother died, I started looking at my family's Kodachromes. I spent hours holding the little cardboard squares up to the light, remembering well the camera we used and the slide shows that followed. Around the same time that I began looking at these images, my eighty-five year old father asked me to start shredding his personal papers. I quickly understood the sadness of that project and suddenly found myself trying to piece some of the shreds back together. The convergence of my family’s old pictures and the act of shredding resulted in this work. As I re-framed the images, shredded, and re-assembled them, I was carefully examining and piecing together my memories.

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