More than 900 works on paper so far, including drawings, collages, readymades, photographs and etchings.
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In 2011, I found a library's "book card" in a book that used to be my father's, a book I inherited when my parents died. It gave me a glimpse into his life. My father must have walked uptown to Columbia University Library, taken out the book – and kept it. After I read the book I thought about the book card. They were both souvenirs: physical objects that commemorate an aspect of my father's life.

Each of my books does that in a sense: it holds the secret to where and when my mother, my father or I held it or carried it around. Book Card is an attempt to inventory the non-obvious stories my books contain. I am dipping into each one like a book card, handling it at least long enough to trigger my memory or imagination, identify something meaningful and focus on it. Book Card is the record of that performance.

Instagram (@bookcard) is another performance. With the act of posting from the studio, each book is integrated into my forward-facing present, and my parents’ book-stories are simultaneously integrated with mine. With this, my history becomes a little better reflected in what everyone can see about me.

For more than two years, I posted one new picture daily.