I obsessively drew Puff the Magic Dragon when I was five-years-old. For the past year, experimenting with new ways of working, I returned to this practice, sitting down almost daily to try to replicate with as much accuracy as possible one of those drawings saved from childhood.
The drawings become a truer replica of the original, but that “original” lives in the present—faded colors, graying paper. My ability to draw as a five-year-old hovered between representation and abstraction. It is a story of becoming, but there are so many ways to see what is lost and what is gained, what lives in the present and what lives in the past, who I was then and who I am now. Puff the Magic Dragon, a symbol of the end of childhood and the imaginary, is the perfect host for such wondering.