Remembering something is like looking into sandy water — things get lost and hidden by what rises up from somewhere else. “Sandy Water” is an artist book that I made while thinking about the landscapes that I grew up with. My memories of the Gulf Coast, South Texas, and the Hill Country get cloudier the longer I live away from them, but their sand, shells, bird songs, insects, and wildflowers also seem to become more vivid parts of who I am.
The line between writing and drawing is like the line between remembering and imagining — it sharpens and then blurs. After all, when I’m drawing sand and water, the two look so similar that they could be the same.