when i was little, my father & i would roam around looking for treasures in the streets. he was always attracted to ceramic figurines, and we would often find them missing a limb or hand. to remedy this he also collected limbs for reconfiguring . . . . nothing was ever too damaged, too broken, if it still had some beauty.
something about the delicate yet subtle violence of these sculptures by justin novak reminded me of those nights walking about with him, looking for things left to be forgotten.