A blueprint is a lifelong work — a single piece to be completed over a lifetime. To become “one” is to keep searching for ways of connection. Along the open field, I set aside the blueprint for a while, letting myself wander through space — seeking a line of balance amid the rises and falls. Turning back, waiting, persisting; walking itself becomes a way of measurement.
The starting point of the work was an attempt to measure the width of a meadow. I used packing tape laid across the grass as the measuring method. When night fell, the tape left a glowing line in the darkness, forming the first part of the creation. As I retrieved the tape, traces of the grass were recorded upon it, and I rolled it into a circular grass sphere. This was a process of condensation — merging beginning and ending, body and landscape, movement and texture. In this manner, I walked across the field for nearly forty days, gathering the tactile journey of that period into one continuous work.
