“In looking at the land, I see our collective memories recorded. A quilting landscape of stories. Where are we without these stories? Distant and close.
In making I am scratching and scraping at the fabric of these things: life, death, the liminal, the forgotten, the ephemeral.”

Avellana is drawn to the gnawing feelings that linger in strange places – those feelings that have no name. She tries to reach out to the flatlands of all and grasp for something. This something cannot be seen, but she tries her best to translate this into something that can be. This, she thinks, will be her lifelong pursuit.