About the work

The tracksuit was a gift from his sister, years ago, when he was still trying to be someone else. He wore it to paint the garage, then to rake leaves, then to mourn a dead pet. He wore it on the morning he decided to finally walk away from the marriage. It has stretched, faded, and worn thin in places, but never quite given up its shape, its specific gravity in the world. He has never felt the specific joy these three seem to possess, the joy of flight, of effortless, coordinated movement.