About the work

The red umbrella has been dropped. It’s not simply set down, but abandoned, lying open on the damp ground. There is a weight to that gesture, the sudden release, as if the hand that held it could no longer bear the pretense of keeping dry. It sits there, a splash of manufactured color against the muted greens and browns, a small defiance against the indifferent grey of the light. This is how the world collects our small failures: not through malice, but through a quiet absorption, making them a part of its own ongoing, unchanging self. The water will rise, or it won’t; the umbrella will remain. There is no urgency in nature, only persistence.