About the work

It is difficult to say when anything truly begins. Not the Big Bang, or the first breath, but the moment a thing becomes itself in your mind – distinct from everything else. This, then, is a matter of recognition. A certain posture. A particular way light falls. The slow turning of a fan blade above a head that might be anywhere. The world outside the frame, though unseen, must be there, just as surely as the world within this frame feels caught, suspended. The hot dog man, for instance, has a life beyond his wave. The pigeon’s hunger, too, is ongoing. And the instrument, of course, has a deeper voice than what we hear now.