About the work

That child’s toy car, bright red and new, sits on the shelf almost as an affront to the scene around it. Its wheel, perfectly round and aligned, seems to spin freely even though it’s static, while the parent’s own shoes are scuffed, their path perhaps a less controlled trajectory. It suggests a world where some things are manufactured for ease, for pristine unblemished movement, while others are simply lived into a state of wear. The contrast implies a certain kind of relentless friction, an unyielding negotiation with the immediate present. What remains is this unshakeable sense that the perfectly formed, the brightly packaged, will always exist just beyond the grasp of what is actually being done. A quiet testament to the gap between what one anticipates and what one holds.