Dimensions, 18 x 9, a simple 2:1 ratio, same as yesterday.
I anticipate this sequence of halving and doubling will occur again,
but that is mere speculation, a guess, I guess.
Its not just me, it seems inescapable.
Presence in these corners pushes itself over the previous,
rendering them half as valid.
Duration and terms complicate the formula but containment holds true.
I disengage my hands, roll back my shoulders and shake out my legs.
The wind reveals my breath, which returned only yesterday.
I vanish into a slammed door. All evidence remains disengaged, though attached.
Revisions is a series of photographs set in the alienating space of a parking lot, where private property intersects with infrastructure. The language presented on quotidian products becomes subjected to the apparatus of transportation creating a closed loop–the exhausting repetition that inscribes our concept of the present. This feedback loop of labor and consumption reveals language that exemplify this cycle in cynical redactions of text that are only available in a fleeting glance.