All he can do is recount the gravel falling from the sky. Occasionally, his mother spots him ducking and dodging, looking up: Does it look normal? Or is it changing? “It is brighter than before, sort of glowing.” “And that flutter inside you, you still feel that?”
(Lethe)
2023
Burnt birch
50.8 x 40.6 x 3.8 cm / 20 x 16 x 1.5 in
Some afternoons, he follows the line and travels through music by listening to time.
(Hypnos)
2023
Burnt birch
40.6 x 50.8 x 3.8 cm / 16 x 20 x 1.5 in
Everyone thought the end came from the sky, descending red rocks like the last time. If anyone, he should know when: neither dawn, dusk, nor in the gloom of the night. But all he can see is the past, however hard he tries to believe otherwise. There, he returns to the cave in a four-beat gait; the white eye of the dark bison is like the north star at night.
(Lascaux)
2023
Burnt linen
2 parts, each:
91.4 x 61 x 5.1 cm / 36 x 24 x 2 in
The last time he gave his body up, of all seasons, he learned from autumn how to cast the birds away. A year is a small piece beyond the time unit one called a century, in the century where his birth falls; the star had come closer and closer; the sun belt swung up and down, from solstice to solstice, becoming a streak of fire. Around him, new names and words occurred; some are foreign, some are home.
(Geryon)
2023
Burnt birch
121.9 x 152.4 x 3.8 cm / 48 x 60 x 1.5 in
Time was longer when October was the eighth month of the year, when everything was thicker, a year in three hundred and four days. Long days sunk into the earth inside him. He dug and dug and dug until a trickle of music entered the forest from the trees. The vibration of timber encircled him, guiding his hand to guide his hand to sleep. (Gate)
2023
Burnt birch
40.6 x 50.8 x 3.8 cm / 16 x 20 x 1.5 in
A Gauzy Flame, Herald St, London, UK
A Gauzy Flame, Herald St, London, UK
A Gauzy Flame, Herald St, London, UK
The woods had grown so still he could only hear something inside himself quietly pounding. Since returning, he sees Time everywhere—in the eye of a needle, the dust on the windowsill, the red at sunset. In the red sunset, he opened his eye; the hours jumped out of the clock, stood before him, demanding he work correctly.
(Hypnos)
2023
Burnt birch
40.6 x 50.8 x 3.8 cm / 16 x 20 x 1.5 in
While it lives in him, he imagines his scapular spines as small fishing boats at anchor in the river. The vertical border governs his understanding of migration. He repeats the word sleep three times as if he were starting a lullaby. (Nyx)
2023
Burnt linen, rubberwood
91.4 x 50.8 x 7.6 cm / 36 x 20 x 3 in
In every tale comes the point he can see no further, the complete diary entry after the first day of his injury or the cracking stone slabs where his grandparents wore their honor on it. One can spend a lifetime trying to get through Democracy in America, wash up red in the tide of its dreams. (The Temple of Sleep)
2022
Burnt cypress
Overall: 210.8 × 105.4 × 100.3 cm / 83 × 41.5 × 39.5 in
Base: 38.1 × 228.6 × 160 cm / 15 × 90 × 63 in
The Temple of Sleep, Chapter NY, New York, US, 2022
The Temple of Sleep, Chapter NY, New York, US, 2022
The Temple of Sleep, Chapter NY, New York, US, 2022
The instrument telling the hours also carried a melody, struck a resonate cluster of notes, a chord of stretching hours. To travel back home, he learned to memorize first and second endings. (Time)
2022
Burnt birch, cherry column, clock dial, stainless steel convex mirror
Part 1: 9 (h) x 13.5 x 10.5 in (22.8 x 34.2 x 26.6 cm) Part 2: 42 (h) x 11 1/2 x 11 in (106.7 x 29.2 x 27.9 cm) (CL 2171)
And there is us, we who look at the ruins and genuinely believe that civilizing mission was buried in them forever, we who see our memory fading and act as if we have cause for hope anew, as if we truly believed that it belongs to only one time and only one country, we who overlook what's happening around us and do not hear that the cry never falls silent. (Sleep)
2022
Burnt linen, rubber wood
Each: 48 x 24 x 1 1/2 in / 121.9 x 61 x 3.8 cm
Overall: 52.3 x 51.9 x 2.7 in / 132 x 133 x 7 cm
When he was born, he felt everything. The earth has folded over; it has folded three timesand opened up in the middle. In the middle is water; the water is green; the green iswhite, and the white comes from up further. It comes from the glaciers, where his fatherleft both hands behind, studying the distribution of money- historical fiction. Somewherein there, he uncovered justice, democracy, those unambivalent things. But love, love is ahard thing. (Millennium Approaches)
2022
Cast iron, marble, steatite, burnt cypress
30 3/4 x 26 3/4 x 26 1/8 in / 9.5 x 67.8 x 66.5 cm
The Fire Sermon, curated by Adriana Bildaru
Public, London, UK
2022
Here I go back to my black forest. Every day I poured my question into her, like my grandfather poured bucket after bucket of water over our burning shed. What is a normal life? What is a normal life? What is a normal life?
2022
Burnt birch
14 x 11 x 1 1/2 in / 35.6 x 27.9 x 3.8 cm
To Bare the Mark of Time
Tarble Arts Center, Eastern Illinois University, Charleston, US
2022
Thoroughbred (no caster of weather foretold)
Monaco, St. Louis, US
2018
