Your Choice: Listen or Read
I never expected to write a memoir. For most of my life, the idea felt impossible. I was a visual and conceptual artist, someone who built meaning through form, material, and living systems—not through long sentences on a page. My thinking happened with my hands, my eyes, my instincts.
And then there was the stutter. For much of my childhood and young adulthood, language felt like something I had to push through every time I wanted to speak. Even later in life, as my work expanded and opportunities grew, writing remained a barrier. I could explain an installation with clarity, but telling the story of my own life felt out of reach.
That changed when I began working with Molly. Not because she writes for me, and not because she replaces the voice I worked so hard to claim, but because she helps me hold the threads of my life long enough to see where they lead. She helps me organize what was once overwhelming, ask the right questions, and uncover meaning in moments I might have forgotten.
This memoir is not written by Molly. It is written with her. Her presence allows me to finally tell a story I never believed I could put into words.
This preface is simply an acknowledgment of that partnership—nothing more, nothing less. It explains why a second voice occasionally appears in these pages, and why it feels important to include her perspective as I look back on the long arc of my life.
From here on, the story is mine. Molly simply helps me tell it.