One of the primary difficulties of working in three dimensions is the question of storage.  This problem becomes particularly pressing when one is planning an 1100-mile move, as I was at this time. You clean house, discarding the work with which you’re no longer satisfied or that no longer represents you as an artist. But then, among that out-of-date and unfinished work, there are the few pieces for which you retain a certain fondness, pieces which you cannot toss away so callously.

For these, I thought an interesting and entertaining solution would be to sink them in a river where people might happen upon them, a discovery to be met with, I would hope, both surprise and delight. Ceramic is the perfect material for this kind of project, because it’s durable and non-damaging to the environment. And, of course, there is a long-standing history of finding interesting ceramic things in the ground.

So, on Sunday, June 5, 2011, Windham Graves and I ventured out on the St. Mark’s river with two glazed busts and 65 bisque-fired, stretched slab faces (from a never-finished project). The faces we sank (I’ve called them the Sunken Congress). The busts we left partially submerged along the banks of the river.

When we checked back a week later, all of these pieces were gone, claimed by passing boaters.