I grew up in the Duwamish watershed, where salmon have always felt omnipresent in the way of life. I remember zips of pink and silver rippling through the creek under the bridge where I biked, and the hatchery with the teal sign, halfway between the library and my brother's swim practice. When I returned home in 2020, watching the salmon run became a grounding exercise for me in time of deep, communal rupture and upheaval. I've since been slowly documenting their ancestral migration each summer and fall through photos, videos, maps, sketches, and other ephemera as a spatial, durational, and personal practice.       

The species’ significance to Coast Salish waterways pre-dates the settler state by many millennia, and it continues to sustain the greater regional networks of soil, vegetation, and wildlife today despite centuries of ecocide and extractive practices. In tracing the salmon run through the places I grew up, I’ve begun to draw continuities from geographies of the Duwamish watershed to my own articulations of diaspora, loss, grief, and resilience.

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Following the model of food hubs and community-supported agriculture (CSAs), Permanent allows wholesale buyers to source directly and transparently from regenerative crops and pastures in their area—across time, at scale, and at a discount. By shortening the value chain between eaters, growers, and fields, we get more seasonally and regionally diversified foods onto the dinner table, while also building collective buy-in and long-term viability for farmers restoring our soil health.

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A pair of slow clocks: one that stops when looked at, another submerged in gooey oil. Each loses momentum the more it labors. Dormant at first, a pulse can only be discerned if you give it time and listen closely.

Exhibited at the School for Poetic Computation. Featured in Creative Applications.

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A pair of slow clocks: one that stops when looked at, another submerged in gooey oil. Each loses momentum the more it labors. Dormant at first, a pulse can only be discerned if you give it time and listen closely.

Drawing from Felix Gonzalez-Torres’ elegy to queer love in Untitled (Perfect Lovers) (1997–90), Time Portraitures reconfigures “broken” timepieces as an expression of grief—one where time is an account of life, and all loss is political. How do we even begin to contend with the matrices of loss under capitalism? How do we measure the time they’ve extracted from us and our ecologies?

But perhaps there’s beauty to slowness. Consider this an anti-technology: a device designed to be unproductive, inconsumable. A shy clock that intimates its heartbeat only to those patient enough. It breathes new meaning into “keeping time”—keeping life, holding life, preserving life. As Ruth Wilson Gilmore says, “where life is precious, life is precious.”

Exhibited at the School for Poetic Computation. Featured in Creative Applications.

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