About the work

Sometimes, what you can’t quite place is the most important thing. It sits there, like a missed beat, or a word you almost remembered, humming with its own quiet insistence. It is not exactly a sound, nor a silence. It’s more like the way a space holds its breath, just before something happens, or long after it has. The light knows this. It stretches itself thin across the surfaces, not quite settling, not quite leaving. It is this quality, this unsettledness, that truly endures.