This installation is an ode to the faint memory of my grandmother’s house. The house was demolished when I was around five due to noncompliance with the new earthquake code.
These bronze oranges slowly unravel, creating lower pitches and losing their resonant ring. It is the slow fading of a sweet memory.

The windchimes ring while we eat oranges in the cramped living room. Uncle, aunt, four cousins, mom, dad, my brother, and my Grandma. AC blasting while we compete to see who can peel the longest continuous swirling orange peel.