About the work

The red balloon is caught, not tied, against the concrete, an accident of air currents. It’s too bright for the cool light falling on the market stalls, a plastic punctuation mark in a world of soil and root. This accidental splash of colour feels like a fleeting thought, something that just appeared without cause or consequence, unbidden. It might have been held by a child, then let go, or perhaps just drifted in from outside. We forget how easily things escape our grasp, how quickly they become untethered and then, somehow, caught in unexpected places. The balloon doesn’t care about the brutalist angles or the muddy carrots; it simply *is* there, briefly.