About the work

The lock is cold. It has been cold all night, a small, intricate machine of brass and steel, holding the bicycle to the railing. This particular Raleigh has seen countless sunrises, each one finding it in precisely the same spot, held fast by the same commitment. There is a sense of obligation here, of being present not by choice but by design, a silent sentinel in the pre-dawn hush. The pigeon, a fleeting blue shadow, lands and takes off, unaware of the quiet resolve it mirrors. It is this forced presence, this continuous, unthinking vigil, that reveals the deeper contract of ownership – not what we choose to possess, but what, by its simple persistence, comes to possess a part of us.