Nest is visually simple and symbolically complex.
The nest of the title fell from a tree in my mother’s garden in the Netherlands. I brought it back to Ireland, not knowing how it might be transformed. Ten years later, and two years after my mother had died, I returned to it as it contained both personal and universal resonances. Two hands, calmly and systematically, over a period of thirty minutes, take apart the nest, twig by twig until there is nothing left but dust. Home is deeply connected to ideas of history. No matter how integrated a refugee, migrant or immigrant might become, they may never share in that.