t the time of writing, I am waiting for my next crop of opium poppies to germinate, blossom and dry: a full season before I can harvest their seeds. I’ve been collecting the seeds each summer for several years. I didn’t know what I would do with them, but I kept gathering them, waiting for the right form and concept to find each other. Over time, my processes have become more attuned to the seasons. Alongside the seeds, I gathered knowledge on other medicinal and psychoactive plants, circadian rhythms, sleep, and astronomy.
