The harshness of the landscape, and its relative lack of features - by which I mean relative to my own experience - forces me down into my own body like a rodent seeking moisture below the arid surface. The body (and the breath - hot and flat) become central not only to my work but to my - my everything: my thoughts, rants, dreams, day-dreams. It's all blurring, becoming the same. Featureless. Relatively speaking. As the thermometer tops 40 celsius, I start working with a kind of clay, barely an adobe because of the sparcity of even dead vegetation. It is slow and tedious work. There is not enough water to "waste" on something like "art" so I crush the soil by hand and mix it with my spittle. Of which there is little. Only a little spittle. (yes the heat makes things get silly sometimes - or stupid might be better word - anyway thank god for anisette). Obsessed with the body, I make row upon row of these clay "skeleton" sculptures.

Installation: "Lost Ballets (for Antinova)"
near Kolmanskop Art Center, Luederitz, Namibia
January 1, 2007
Dust & spittle, dimensions variable