Mary Addison HACKETT

One day while roaming the house and making decisions about what stays and what goes, I wondered what I would paint once the history of my childhood home was emptied. Even in the event I became a hardcore minimalist with few worldly possessions, I knew I would always have the comfort of a kitchen with ready made prosaic still lifes marking the passage of time. In January, I set up a cigar box studio on the kitchen counter and proceeded to document the wayfaring objects crossing its terrain.

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