The house comes first.

Making gradually took up more space there. A room would acquire another purpose. Clothing moved through the house. People came through the door. There were fittings, experiments, gatherings, late nights, and the ordinary routines of living among them.

I knew I wanted to keep making. I knew what each decision asked of me then: what a room needed to become, what a garment needed next, what we were trying.

What I could not see was the world accumulating around those decisions.

Looking now, a garment carries the memory of a person. A person returns me to a room. What I remember separately has begun, through distance, to reveal its relationships.

There are things here I remember clearly and things I am only now beginning to see.

This is where I enter again.

Philadelphia, 2011

Archive Edition
Published 2026

The beginning.