About the work

The tractor is a beacon, or perhaps a prayer. Its hum vibrates across the parched ground, an assertion of control against the desert's indifference. We are past midnight, and a satellite dish, an eye turned upwards, collects signals from elsewhere, from a vast, unseen network. There is a strange sense that this field, this tractor, this entire scene, exists primarily to feed data into that dish. The machine is not just working the land; it is articulating its existence to a distant, calculating presence. What is being accounted for here, in this solitary, late-night vigil, beyond mere harvest? It feels like an act of relentless, private inventory, a silent, desperate effort to quantify the unquantifiable.