Shells that I collected in the past, from different places and during different events. I drew them the way they were sitting on my shelf each being a memory for me, something I lived through at the beach. The broken shell is from Le Touquet Paris Plages. I used to go there a lot when I was a child, it being where my mother grew up. Its broken shape has always been fascinating to me because it is interesting to think that once, this object was a full shell. I picked this shell up at the beach the day that my Grandmother’s funeral was held and I kept it as a symbol for that day. The two shells in the middle I found in Vancouver, also a long time ago. These travelled a long way and were never anything special in my eyes except that they were once form a place I lived in. I would pick up many seashells on Third Beach, a beach I used to spend a lot of time on with family. Over the years, these are the only two that have survived. The last shell at the bottom is the most recent one, being from Benin, Africa. A memory of the first time I set foot in Africa. I was overwhelmed my the size of the seashells there, they seemed to exotic and untouched that I ended up bringing home many, this one being the only whole one. I have been collecting shells for a while now, it is fascinating to know that once they were at the bottom of the ocean serving as a home for a sea creature.
