We long for things that hold story. pieces that bear history, ripen with age, last through thick and thin and then become all the more beautiful because of it.  The leather chair that held the shape of my dad.  The copper pots turning different colors because of loving use.  The wooden cutting board etched and marred by years of family use.  A story passed  from mother to daughter, to neighbor, to print... perhaps a long told love story.

     This is the patina of life, layered onto objects and places and people themselves, memories that speaks of legacy and the great passage of time. Whether it’s a chair or a song, a seed, or a story, we are surrounded by a whole world of accessible moments, of collected memories. 

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