Rose Umerlik
	The skin of each day is thick with automatic motion. We move in our stiffening leather routines, across the surface, towards home. Somewhere in our amnesia, there are anchoring lines to memories that remind of us of who we are. As we fade, our history pares down to a few shapes, colors and lines; curving, or jilted, they map our return to ourselves, to our sensitive skin. These underlying details warm our collective childhood, our collective touch, scent and luminescence, breaking our amnesia, and giving us a moment of recognition akin to pure joy.
	Rose Umerlik
	Statement, 2007