About the work

What would it be like to carry a silence so complete? Not the quiet of a room, or even a field, but something that has been carefully packed away, sealed into its own space. The sun, as it hits the dust in the air, makes visible all the things that are usually invisible – the drift, the slowing. And yet, this particular silence, this weight of it, seems impenetrable. It has its own horizon, its own internal weather. The clanging, then, is a kind of punctuation, a deliberate disruption, just enough to remind you there is still a world beyond the carefully chosen confinement, even if it’s one you’re only passing through. It’s like the smell, sharp and sudden, a memory of friction in a journey otherwise suspended.