HOW DO I GET OFF THIS HORSE?
BW: You have left Nantasket Beach with your little collection of this year’s rocks – a much smaller set than in previous years, I’ve noted – why are you still making stones-to-horses sets?
HL: It’s a leftover, made a few days ago, before I left the beach.
BW: So why are you showing it?
HL: You know that I feel compelled to present almost everything I make – everything I make that I think is sort-of okay.
BW: Alas, you are hopeless. I hope there are no more in your draft file.
HL: There are -- several more.
BW: Oh no!
[Each summer as I walk Nantasket Beach certain stones catch my eye and whisper things such as ‘I’m beautify, collect me,’ ‘I’m ugly, collect me,’ ‘I show the history of this planet, collect me.’ I collect stones only if they agree to transform themselves into horses – that’s what stones did when I was a kid in Idaho. The pretty rocks I collected on Idaho’s sandy hills became horses in the play ranch I constructed under my grandmother’s apple tree. Later, much later, memories of those stones transformed themselves into horses in the pages of my artist-books and folios. Now those pages merge with Nantasket stones and shadows in Polyvore sets.]