What is left when the story has played out? Remnants and fragments: body parts, cigarette butts, lost objects, rubble. Eastwood invites us to imagine what is missing, how things may have been and what they might become.

 

Ceramics give a fragile permanence to fleeting moments and detritus. A clay mesh laced with rings preserves only the outline of shapes. An overflowing ashtray hints at long conversations.

 

Body parts live on, until nature reclaims them: heaped bones turn into mountains; ears and tongues still communicate, suspended in time.

 

Monuments embody memories but fall prey to the passing of time. Who knows what the broken inscription in a long-dead language was meant to say?