About the work

The board, the one leaning there, was polished just this morning, a fresh coat of wax to catch the waves that never arrive here. Someone dragged it through a portal, or perhaps it was left behind by a future self who knew this place would become the only refuge from a sun gone rogue. But it is here now, out of its element, a relic of a world it can no longer belong to, and it seems to watch the wind erode the ice, measuring its lifespan against the ancient. It is odd that such an object could feel like a warning.