Drift’s graphite drawings render the natural world while representing my experiences with my father. Upon his diagnosis of dementia, he and I explored Denman Island’s beaches, where he selected driftwood pieces as gifts. Their delicacy required swift preservation. Like my father, their substance was fragile—a past about to disappear.
I continue to document driftwood in his memory. Each piece is centered on an unadorned background, marking a refusal to allow the elderly to drift into obscurity. My drawings celebrate age; they are like the gifts my father gave me at the end of his life.