A cube is the least honest shape available to a person, which is exactly why I built one. December 14th, 4:31 PM, in the concrete blast enclosure at the back of the old aggregate yard: three walls, no roof, wet floor, and no direction to the light at all. I wrapped a framed volume roughly six feet on a side in a single tarp and tied it at eight grommets so that the corners would pull true and the faces would sag anyway. They sagged. That is the fourth station. The material has been given a body to cover, and the body immediately becomes a rumour. The viewer will want to know what is inside. There is nothing inside worth the asking, and I will not say, because the not saying is the only privacy this work has left. Note the patch, on the right face, low, the single warm thing in a photograph otherwise composed entirely of grey and one blue.
Prints available. Acquire this work as a fine art reproduction, worthy of any wall that deserves better.
| Unframed Print | Framed Print |