I am haunted by memories: a tattered blue blanket, shattered glass, a blood stained carpet, the distressing finality of a door slammed shut—the absence that follows. I am haunted by sounds: the high pitch of a mother’s cries, the jarring suddenness of an open hand striking a woman’s face, a squeaking mattress heard through a bedroom door, the voices of Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder spun from an eight track recorder. I am haunted by smells: the dying embers of an incense stick—frankincense and myrrh, the stench of pissed drenched hallways in New York City Subways, the warm scent of recognition buried deep within the fabric of a father’s suits. What is the nature of memory? Where does it reside, and how do present experiences reflect our lived past? In what rooms of the subconscious do we store our pain and our regret, with the hope that the darkness will enshroud all recollection? I am interested in those hidden spaces—spaces that facilitate a sensory experience that may dislodge an imbedded memory. My work is primarily concerned with creating “visual triggers”—objects that in form and content work to undermine the compartmentalized self. Through the use of encoded language, unconventional materials, personal and collective memory, I attempt to unmask the pathology of imposed forgetting—a pathology deeply entrenched within the American psyche.