About the work

You’ve put on this jumpsuit. It’s new, it’s bright, and it feels like a costume for a part you didn't audition for. The rose is the wrong thing to hold here, a gesture made for somewhere else, for someone else. You’re standing still, waiting for the spin cycle to finish, or for something else to begin—something that feels more like you, less like a production. The sunlight is doing its best to tell you this is a normal day, but you know better. You know the difference between the light that sees you and the light that only illuminates a stage.