About the work

It is possible to forget the ground is there. You can step into a day and float for hours, carried by a memory of walking or a conversation from earlier that week, the body doing its own work below you, until a sudden drop, a misstep, brings you back. Not with a jolt, but a slow, quiet sinking. The cold air around the knees, the unexpected softness of a tread, the sense of something in the periphery that was not there before, but has been waiting. A string, perhaps, or a feather, a loose piece of paper caught and then forgotten. A small, blue weightlessness that was not, after all, quite weightless.