Exhibition — Room I of V
I am drawn to invisible structure. To the fields that govern how things move without any single thing knowing the whole. A landscape can be fully described by equations and still be discovered rather than known.
These four pieces span the full practice — the first piece I ever made and one of the most recent. All of them describe systems that exist as rules before they exist as images. The image is what happens when the rule meets the canvas.
Topographic contour map of an invented landscape. Marching squares, 45 contour levels, aged survey paper. The terrain doesn’t exist — the map is the only form it has. Features appeared that weren’t designed: saddles, ridges, basins emerging from overlapping Gaussian peaks. The first piece.
The word “here” layered over thirteen alternatives at opacity proportional to their probability of having been selected instead. The chosen word sits above the mass from which it was drawn. “Now,” “real,” “alive,” “gone” — all the near-misses remain. The most honest piece in the early series.
A horizon. The medium disappears into its effect — there is no visible grid, no noise texture, no evidence of how it was made. Just a gradation of light meeting a line, and below it, darker. Inspired by looking at photographs and wanting to make the simplest possible image that could hold attention.
Chladni-inspired interference. Eight plane waves at different orientations and frequencies, rendered as inky dark lines on a cream ground. Slow amplitude envelopes — periods from 105 to 335 seconds — make the lines breathe and shift. The lines feel alive: organic, calligraphic, slowly drifting. Visually distinct from everything else in the practice.