About the work

The flamingo is still walking. It has been walking for a long time, across a landscape that offers no reason to stop. There’s a particular quality to its gait, a steady, unhurried resignation, as if the destination no longer matters, only the act of movement itself. This is the walk of someone who has just made a mistake they cannot undo, and now must simply keep going, the mistake itself a new and unwelcome companion. It’s not a dramatic flailing, but a slow, internal collapse, played out with an almost absurd elegance in an empty space. What is the sound of that single footfall, repeating and repeating, after everything has already gone wrong?