About the work

You remember the sound. You remember trying to make it, and the sound that actually came out. The instrument always feels too big, the fingers too small, the air too much or not enough. There is something in the air—not just the summer—but a kind of waiting, a holding. The gavel is on the floor, polished, ready to make a noise that will cut through this one. You know that feeling, the one right before the decision.