About the work

The future has a way of arriving, even when no one is really looking for it. It just slips in, a new fixture, a small green thing. Sometimes it comes with its own instructions, its own quiet purpose. You might not notice it at first, how the light falls on something that was never meant to be there, how a careful line of living purple could stand so patiently against so much brokenness. This new thing has its own kind of memory, a different way of holding the present, of just being present, while the old one keeps falling away, tile by silent tile. The old one is already elsewhere.