This pastel drawing is from a series of mine called Remnants and is derived from an eerie visit to an abandoned mannequin refurbishing warehouse.
Upon entering the archaic warehouse, the musty smell of a dead era filled my nostrils. I was surrounded by remnants of a time forgotten. The room was void of any workings, save the clusters of spider webs and the figures that lay strewn about the floor in my midst. Torsos with or without heads adorned the empty spaces, frozen in a decade not their own. The mannequins had once been icons of their time, draped in clothing, topped with hats. Now, however, they were relegated to cloaks of dust, their battered bodies seemingly weary of the weight of time. As I turn my back, it seemed I could feel life in the figure behind me. There, the line between the living and the inanimate blurred irrevocably, leaving me straining for any signs of the world I knew. The distant sound of a freight train bellowed in the dusk and a truck rumbled by on the street below. I recorded my images and shuffled across the wood plank floor, anxious for my return to the world of the living.
