About the work

The pigeon, if it could, would find the corner of this window frame a good place to hide from the wind. It’s hard to imagine the wind inside, but it must be somewhere out there, pushing the evening light around. Maybe it’s not really the wind. Perhaps it’s just the city, always moving, always about to be. The kitchen itself is a kind of waiting room, the light too bright, the air too still. There is a sense of something about to break, or maybe something that already has. We are all, at some point, caught in the threshold of a window, looking out into a night that offers no easy answers, only more questions. The pigeon keeps looking.