About the work

Things persist in ways you don't expect them to. The echo of an engine, the memory of a conversation you had years ago, the faint metallic tang that stays on your tongue after a long drive. Light, too, has a certain tenacity, holding its ground against the darkness it’s supposed to be piercing, not quite giving way to the deeper black of the sky. It catches on everything, the fine grit, the dust that the wind carries, the stray leaf, illuminating their small truths for a moment longer than they deserve. Some tasks demand this same kind of stubbornness. They are not waiting for morning, or for a clearer sky, or for anything at all. They are just happening, right now, under whatever light happens to be available.