this is an inquiry into flexing the boundaries of what we expect this canvas can contain, produce, elicit, in the modern age so that it be left behind as a reminder for future generations who find this technology in the equivalent of an attic–a dusty attic–in a box under a blanket that goes dark at night when the sun sets and lay undisturbed with the first rays of sunrise


what if we were supposed to keep going, always in search of our second wind and our second life and our second chance and that is how we are born again ???

tell me of the stream.

tell me of the creek.

Circulate with the eddies and let them know of tornados and the way God came down to Ezekiel. Wind and fire.

The torch of Hilma af Klint like a comet.