top of page

What was it it whispered? I knew not well myself;
Perhaps it was something about the heat of the sun,
Something, perhaps, about the lack of sound—
And that was why it whispered and did not speak.
​

--from Mowing, by Robert Frost

C4365D30-6D8E-460B-B0D3-D8DA059F7D10_1_105_c.jpeg
IMG_4850.jpeg
IMG_2925.jpeg

CINDY PARKER

My work begins with attention and inquiry. I gather objects, words, and observations. They become an evolving archive until a relationship becomes visible and a work begins. I go places. I read and study. I figure things out by making things.


I study the traces carried by old textiles, bones, obsolete objects, language, gesture, movement, and landscape. I want to see how materials deteriorate and change, and what they continue to say. What did they hold? Why are they lost or broken? Why are they here with me?

bottom of page