About the work

The world has a way of being complete, even in its fragments. It doesn’t demand a narrative from you, or the completion of its own. A half-eaten apple is not, in the grand scheme, waiting to be finished. It is already, entirely, a half-eaten apple. And the light that falls upon it, whether it’s the harsh blaze of noon or the gentler softening of dawn, doesn't judge its state of being. It simply illuminates. We are the ones who arrive with expectations, with the ghost of a whole apple, or the memory of a full table. But the surface of the concrete, damp and smelling of fresh water, holds no such projections. It just reflects, with a quiet, confident shine.