About the work

It’s difficult to remember, sometimes, what it felt like to be completely ready for something. Not just prepared, but truly ready, every nerve ending humming with an almost physical hum. The kind of readiness that makes you stand still in a place where no one else is, really, standing still. Everyone else moves around you, through their own slow, measured, necessary motions. They pass, they gather, they choose. And you, in that bright, even light, just hold the pose. The dullness of a chain, or the sheen of tiny metallic flakes, or the quiet, upright presence of a small dog, all become equally important. Not as signals, not as evidence, but as the actual texture of waiting.