Archival pigment print on cotton paper, 84 × 55.6 cm
After Wind Phrases (2020), The Land With No Name Sanctuary, Sierrita Mountains, Arizona. A photograph taken on 5 August 2020 at 19:14:27, three minutes before sunset, is crossed by a grid of 253 cells that spells the title in Morse code. Where the signal is on, the photograph appears; where it is off, only a trace of it. Across the valley, the Kitt Peak telescopes were closed that summer.
Archival pigment print on cotton paper, 55.6 × 84 cm
After Galley Sock (2020), The Land With No Name Sanctuary, Sierrita Mountains, Arizona. A photograph taken on 26 July 2020 at 18:45:49, forty minutes before sunset, is crossed by a grid of 272 cells, one for each second of the search for wind that began at 18:41:18. In each recorded second, the photograph appears as far as the windsock lifted: hanging, nothing; flying level, all of it. Unrecorded seconds are left blank; the second of the photograph is whole. Across the valley, the Kitt Peak telescopes were closed that summer.
Archival pigment print on cotton paper, 55.6 × 84 cm
After Galley Sock (2020), The Land With No Name Sanctuary, Sierrita Mountains, Arizona. On 26 July 2020, from 18:41:18 to 18:45:49, I moved the work between trees, path and deck in search of wind. One cell holds one second: each recorded second shows what the camera saw, in grey, and the sock’s red returns only as far as it lifted. Unrecorded seconds are left blank; the last second, the photograph, is in colour. Across the valley, the Kitt Peak telescopes were closed that summer.
Archival pigment print on cotton paper, 55.6 × 84 cm
After Trabucco (2020), part of Wind Phrases, The Land With No Name Sanctuary, Sierrita Mountains, Arizona. A photograph taken on 5 August 2020 at 18:19:38, an hour before sunset, is laid under a grid of 544 cells, one for each second counted back from the shutter. In the first 106, filmed while walking around the installation, the photograph appears wherever the Trabucco was in view: faintly when far off, whole when faced. The walk catches only sky; the stone never appears. Across the valley, the Kitt Peak telescopes were closed that summer.
