Probing a relationship between plastic watering cans, perhaps not exactly love, perhaps a confluence of penetrating materials offering the dangerous as safe and as an emblematic intercourse on our conflicted love in compromised relationships. I know you love it, whispered the rapist, advertised loudly and allied to ephemeral performance installations staging plastic objects in big box stores as temporary art with timeless materials. I know, you know, plastic is ubiquitous, convenient and forever, playing at the Canadian Tire store, aisle 47. There is also inquiry into the same immediate functional, the domestic watering can for hand watering gardens: the mud-making, back-bending, careful experience to plant and nurture a seed, for the love of it, for love, we do it all for love.

ink on paper