Dianna Ponting

I am drawn to quietly touch what I find abandoned and to ponder the obvious questions, trying wistfully, I suppose, to evoke the sights and sounds that must have surrounded it in its prime. Inevitably all things do turn to dust, but this fact seems a little less melancholy when, after the elements have scrubbed the slate clean, I as an artist, can open up my hand and smile at the small piece I held back.