A row of five sculptures faces the two-lane state road in front of her house. Each is there for a particular reason. The second is her mailbox, which has evolved into a strange sculpture with cups atop posts, fragments of bricks and cement, wires, and slabs of wood. She traces its inspiration to the Old Testament: “The Lord is my shepherd. I shall not want.” She continues to recite the Twenty-third Psalm, approaching its end: “‘He anoint my head with oil. My cup runneth over.’ You see them cups? You see the box? You got to do what? To dwell in thehouse of the Lord forever, that’s what.”
