About the work

The things we choose to carry sometimes choose us back. Not with any malice, or even with much intention, but simply by becoming the shape of the day. A costume is one such thing. A rainstorm is another. The feeling that something is moving away from something else, that is also a kind of weight, picked up or put down. And the pigeon, of course, carrying its small, hard hunger across the damp pavement, indifferent to the fruit passing above.