Richard Warfield Smith
The Nursery Web Weavers
19 x 22 in.
To look directly at those of us, who are physically different, who wear our scars or uniqueness on the outside – is to look in the mirror without blinking. The façade becomes vague as we stare, leaving us undefined and grasping for our name.
I work within this morphology, under crumpled paper. Autumnal leaves, torn bits of nothing that blow in the wind. In the shunned and forgotten lies a cipher, an insight behind what is apparently visible.
© Richard Warfield Smith