In the twilight of the forest, I move cautiously, careful not to stumble or hit my head. I concentrate on proceeding. I imagine everything else rather than see it. Yet only the idea of the entire forest guides me, it tells me where to go, what to do.
I talk about emotions, sensations, imaginations, but I don’t want to say anything about the engine that drives the work, discovering it is the job of the beholder. Another journey, if you will.
In a gallery I see the works as they are presented, at the height at which they are hung: but there is also the rest of the space, silent and patient, without paintings, without people.
