Sheffer Gallery, Darlington, Sydney/Eora
September 2019
Grit, sometimes it’s how I think about it all. As in dirty, messy, can’t get off grit. Now part of you, inside of you, that kind of grit. The type of grit that you know you should get checked. It’s the type, where the pain in your back starts at twenty-three, you show it to someone here and you show it to someone there. The grit gets poked, pushed, nurtured but never fixed, it’s the type of fused grit now.
I don’t see any of you for days, weeks and then ten months, some not even for years. I fold. We grow. Feelings got caught. Feelings that got trapped between two doors opening towards one another. I try to forge a 170 cm x 50 cm space. Sometimes I think bad design, fraught system. Yes, yea fraught but so painfully real that we call it beautiful. Smaller than a spec in time and space but significant in complexity, grand even- so we tell ourselves, so he reminds me. It’s a machine in a small box. I love you all dearly. Thank you for being alive. We could have been anywhere in the world but we’re here. A toast to all the grit.
