Matilda McQuaid, a longtime supporter and visionary curator behind many transformative exhibitions, reached out with an opportunity we couldn’t pass up: a commission for LongHouse Reserve’s first major outdoor sculpture by us. 

At the time, we had just purchased 19 acres in Germantown, New York—a place filled with cedar trees, wild grasses, and memories waiting to be made. As we cleared a space for three sheds, the scent of cut cedar transported us back to our grandmother Frances Hill’s cedar chest, where she kept magical fabrics. Those smells, textures, and memories became foundational to our artmaking.

We started slicing small discs from the cedar trunks—“cookies”—and experimenting with how to connect them. The natural rose and purple hues inside each disc were mesmerizing. Inspired by those early tests and the memory of textiles, we decided to weave them into a structure. At first, we tried wire. Then, during a trip to Home Depot, we thought about how we needed a simple, fast, and accessible way to attach the cedar cookies—and zip ties popped into our minds. They were flexible, textured, and unexpectedly beautiful.

Over the course of a year and a half, we worked side by side with our parents to create a 40-foot cedar passageway. The walls—constructed entirely from zip-tied cedar cookies—formed both the exterior and interior surface. The whole family was involved: William cut the discs, our mom sanded them, and our dad drilled every hole. The finished work, titled Right Here. Right Now., featured eight-foot cedar walls and an asymmetrical peaked roof, installed along a garden path at LongHouse Reserve. The discs filtered light and shadow throughout the day, creating an immersive, ever-changing sensory experience.

Visitors described it as a bridge—not just a physical one, but a symbolic threshold between past and future. One longtime staff member said, “This feels like a bridge between where we’ve been and where we’re going.”

Installed during a time of transition at LongHouse following the passing of its founder, Jack Lenor Larsen, the piece felt especially resonant. It honored legacy while pointing toward transformation. For us, it was about memory, nature, and connection—an homage to where we came from and what we dream forward.