About the work

There is a particular kind of forgetting, a simple erosion of what came before, that feels less like amnesia and more like the ground itself shifting. The past, in these moments, doesn’t so much disappear as become irrelevant, a thing that was always meant to lead to this now. The light, for instance, has always had this quality, even when it hasn’t. Or the way a landscape holds its breath, just before it opens into something else. It isn’t an ending. It’s the next thing, pushing through.