In Person

The initial plan for Walk On had a linear type narrative that had since been thrown away and forgotten. The passage of time in the months of the pandemic had started to feel extraordinarily nonlinear, along with a head that feels ungrounded and floating. It’s unclear if this perception of time is the cause or a contributor, or the result or a symptom. So, in my own messy confusion, I made a mess book. I don’t think it’s possible to shove these things into a neat narrative, anyway.

As I kept going, the book’s structure kept changing, finally settling into a double-sided accordion fold that flops in your hands, tangles in thread, and loops around to the “beginning” again. I wanted the seams and loose ends to show – a conscious awareness of the materiality and miscellaneous parts of a whole coming together as language and image breaks down. It is part performance – fumbling through the thick pages and getting them to sloppily fold in – and part merely living – collecting and doing the hidden messages as you walk on.