Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012
 Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.  Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

Sometimes things don’t quiet fit together. These sculptures are sitting on my desk, their segments jutting out at uncomfortable angles when they should be smooth, seamless surfaces. Art always seems to be an effort of control. Not control of materials, but control of my own body. One day I hope to fully understand my hands, my movements.

Canberra  -  2012

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