About the work

It begins as a refusal of the ground. This much, at least, is common to every aspiration. But how long can any object sustain such a gesture? The air is a constant negotiation, pushing back with the very thing that lifts. Up there, alone in the dimming, it seems less like flight and more like a tethered defiance against the steady pull of what is expected. The streetlights ignite below, indifferent to the struggle, to the slight, persistent tug against the darkness. This small, improbable thing, holding its own against the vast indifference of the sky, is not a symbol. It is simply there, in the wind, long after it should have come down.