A half-eaten mango seed hints at a transformation. Some pauses are calculated, others unexpected. A rooster digs into the earth again and again to seduce a hen. Traces of soot are encountered in the morning at a site of prayer. Somewhere, a lonely bull stands in a sperm bank while the herd is elsewhere. Milk spills on a kitchen table; at a brick factory, wet clay bricks are left to dry. A cat passes by, leaving behind the chance imprint of its paw.
The landscape is made up of such encounters—of chance and intent, of actions and traces, some fleeting and others enduring. Its scale and complexity often exceed our comprehension, yet we remain entangled within it; the distance between us and the landscape never quite exists.
The exhibition attempts to hold something of this impossible scope. Materials shift and forms move between the permanence of cast brass and the ephemerality of a found brick. Across these transformations of time, beings, materials and encounters, something persists: the immortality of soil
