About the work

The kayak glides past, a bright red against the muted browns and greens. It is a moment of pure passage, of being somewhere only for the briefest time before moving on. The paddler seems to know this, a silent acceptance of the temporary nature of their presence, an understanding that this gravel pit, this particular light, will not hold still for them. There is a kind of gentle humility here, not in the sense of being small, but in acknowledging the vast indifference of the landscape. And yet, to be present in such a place, even for a fleeting instant, makes a claim. It’s a quiet insistence on existence, on having been here, on having seen this particular muddy margin and the tangled reeds just so.