About the work

Something about certain yellows. Not all of them, but the ones that come from somewhere else, from a deeper place in the earth or a particularly insistent kind of light. A yellow that doesn’t just sit on a surface, but hums, as if it’s absorbed too much of the day and can’t quite let go of it. It’s a color that asks for a long moment, longer than you’d normally give to a wall, or to the specific angle of sun on one part of a car. And then, there's the pigeon. The way it chooses its spot, so unconcerned with what's beneath it, with the long-distance echo of all those bright surfaces. It’s just another thing, taking its measure of the heat, oblivious to how its own small shadow repeats the bigger, more insistent shapes of the day.