
About
Stations is a site-responsive poetic and visual meditation on loss, impermanence, and presence. The project began in the wake of destruction: a tornado tore through a patch of forest close to my home in the northeastern corner of Nashville, Tennessee. I had returned to the forest every day for over a year while recovering from a long battle with serious illness. The storm upended not only natural and human-constructed features but the internal landscape I had come to rely on for my survival. In response, and from some primal instinct, I began to write, eventually composing directly onto the fallen trees, debris, and remnants of that erased world. An act of inscription that was both personal and universal, a way of witnessing what was disappearing while it disappeared.
The resulting work exists in multiple stages and forms: poetry written onto the remains of the forest, photographic documentation of those inscriptions paired with reproductions of the original writing broken into verse, soundscapes recorded in the aftermath, site-responsive presentation of these materials, and a continued engagement with the space and its transformation. Stations is neither a fixed archive nor a simple memorial. It is an ongoing practice of attention, an invitation to see the world, and loss itself, as something still unfolding.
The name Stations draws from the traditional Christian devotional practice of the Stations of the Cross that follows Christ’s journey to crucifixion, a ritual of movement, witnessing, and reflection. It is typically structured around 12 moments, or “stations,” each representing a step in his suffering, an act of witnessing that invites reflection on pain, sacrifice, and redemption. Though the project is not bound to any specific theological framework, it follows a similar structure: a series of moments, each one holding its own weight, leading toward something that cannot be fully grasped until it is passed through. Stations is about presence, about the act of pausing to notice. To pay attention to something necessary before it is erased, before it is replaced, before it is too late.