About the work

There is always more light than one expects. Even in rooms designed to hold darkness. It finds its way in, or it generates itself, humming from a forgotten fixture. The human eye adjusts, of course, a minor miracle, but it's the objects that keep the memory of the brighter place. A chair remembers the sun, even when it’s folded. A cake remembers the oven, the heat that made it real. And sometimes, even a pane of glass holds the ghost of a streetlamp, a flicker that once promised something. Not quite a memory, more a persistent hum.