The Tryst Series presents elliptical narratives, written in the hand of an elderly woman, and placed between sheets of reflective and clear glass in weathered window frames. These fragmented memories allude to past liaisons in places further evoked by rusted mementos that adorn the frames.

It must have been a toolshed. We discovered hammers and saws...

...and other things I didn’t know the names of.

My clothing was ruined.

All that rust.

He was my cousin. By marriage.

I recall seeing moonlight through those little windows they had for the chickens.

I lost my brooch that night.

But never missed it.

We’d passed on the road to town many times.

His name was Edmund. He lived nearby.

He said he was a farrier.

They shoe horses, don’t they?

I’d never seen a chicken coop so lovely.

Later, I realized I’d left something behind.

I’ve often wondered...

...if the chickens found some use for it.