(space)

I don't think that infinity naturally exists. It can't. Every single thing that you can think of has an upper limit. Anyone who says otherwise is literally trying to sell you something.

Instead, we will infinity into existence, and then give it definition, either by:

• continuing on, enduring ever further
• bending the laws of physics to our will
• simply drawing a sideways figure-8

Ultimately, the infinite is our obligation – and perhaps more importantly – it is our responsibility. Thus, (space) is my attempt at its stewardship. I have been making things long enough that their continuum begins to feel, if not circular, decidedly rhythmic.

How I integrate this dichotomy into my practice, and into my ultimately finite existence is a perpetual undertone of my work. If the finite is ever going to have a chance at glimpsing the infinite, it must, then, to a fault:

• put the person on the other side in direct, gonzo-esque focus
• above all else, be whimsical

Through this, the finite and infinite become two sides of the same coin. It all comes down to how you look at it.

Will you let yourself glimpse this infinity? Or will you let yourself be bound by your upper limit?

C'mon in, the water's warm.