Rosa Nussbaum

My work exists in a double helix, two strands that coexists and inform each other.

The secret meaning in the pattern of clotheslines, the confidence imparted by the positions of chimneys on the rooftop I can see through my window

Or

Preexisting form, is hollowed out. Like a hermit crab, the work makes it’s home in preexisting form. This form is a container, a vessel for meaning. But what happens when that meaning content is removed and we are left with the shell of meaning. I want to know if truth exists more as an adjective than a noun. Is truthiness a property like ‘appropriateness’.