About the work

There are things that, once set in motion, continue their slow, inevitable drift. Not because they must, but because nothing stops them. A river finds its way to the sea without conscious effort, simply following the downward slope. A thought, too, sometimes, will find its way to an odd, singular image, almost as if pulled by gravity, by a subtle, unarticulated pressure. It’s not about force, not exactly. More like a persistent nudge, an ongoing, gentle insistence. The air itself seems to be doing that work here, or perhaps it’s the light, just beginning to clarify the edges of a day, making even a familiar, buoyant thing seem to have settled into a strange and perfect immobility, a final, unresisting place.