What is an object? A physical construct, an invention made by dreams and determination, or is it something even more intimate than that? Maybe an object is a source of reflection, a way for us to see what resides within our hearts at the time. Think to all the trinkets that you own (or even pass by), each of them provide you with some unspecified message. It is often difficult to decode these sensations simply because they are beyond words, but we own/appreciate objects because they have a way of becoming part of us. The stories that line your hand-me-down bookshelf, the fork that sits on top of the soup spoons in your drawer, the abandoned shoe sitting on the granite sidewalk; they all seek to provide us with a particular emotion. It is through objects that we are able to momentarily peer within our hearts and see what it is that makes us who we are.
