About the work

The bus stop is a temporary measure, a shelter from a wind that seems to scour everything else from the horizon. But even here, inside its glass shell, the world outside insists on pressing in, a ghostly double. The hot air balloon, a distant, silent witness, floats in both realities at once, a bright red anchor in an otherwise muted scene. It’s an accidental superposition, a trick of light and surface that suggests there might be a point where the world and its reflection become indistinguishable, where the original loses its primacy. Perhaps this is how we learn to carry other selves, other lives, within the one we inhabit, without quite knowing which is the true departure. The hand in the foreground, gloved and still, doesn’t seem to notice the double world it inhabits.