About the work

The dry cleaner’s plastic has only just come off, still holding the faint memory of chemicals and the sharp creases of temporary perfection. One wonders about the previous place this suit had been, what kind of dust or spilled coffee it held before its brief, violent cleansing. It is a surface that promises order, even as the hum of the fluorescent tube above reveals a deeper discord. There is a sense of impending dissolution here, not of the suit itself, but of the careful composure it implies, a fragile barrier against the city's ceaseless demands. What is being waited for in this interval? Perhaps a moment where the surface of things matches what lies beneath, even if only for a second.