About the work

The world is very good at accumulating things. Not just physical objects, but also a kind of dust, an accretion of small, unacknowledged expectations. It settles on surfaces, on gestures, on the way a hand holds something heavy. You learn to live with it, or under it, and sometimes you pick up a tool, any tool, and you start to clean. The cleaning might not be for the object, or even for the dust. It might simply be for the act of pushing back against something that has become too much, a dull hum in the background of a brighter, more insistent sound. There are small, almost imperceptible resistances everywhere, if you know how to look, and how to hold.