About the work

The mitten wasn’t dropped. It was placed there, deliberately, by someone who knew they would not need it again today. Perhaps they were leaving. Perhaps they were coming back for it later, after the brief twilight of a polar noon had come and gone. It glows like a hot ember in all this white, a final punctuation. No one who has ever seen this mitten could know why it was left here, or what warmth it held onto for just a moment.