(text by artist)
Approximately two years ago, I concluded this series for pragmatic and theoretical reasons. In light of what was happening in Hong Kong, it didn’t make sense to make artwork whose material context invoked an entanglement of negligent geo-political state violence, and its relationships to aerial optics and geo-engineering, on a technologically extensive monstrous scale. To work with these materials and reference the roles of these technologies in making something beautiful was an issue that I was grappling with internally at the time despite my inclination and need to make them. Should artwork about atrocious events caused by heinous people be as aesthetically odious as the event itself? What does it mean to make work about stories of conflict amid actual conflict?
In hindsight, I think I made the right decision to end the series, but I am glad I was able to make them when I did. I like to think these seemingly meditative artworks draw on optics that were once thought to be relegated to supernatural beings; but were then extended to robotic spacecraft and war criminals, and further demonstrate the filtering down of these optics to the rest of us, forever altering cognition of landscapes near and far, but more importantly recontextualized the surface of our home planet we have so unmercifully damaged. Art work is not about problem-solving. It is a form of problem-setting, and its a way of communication. In doing so, creating something that causes people to meditate on and stay with these troubling optical and material narratives for a while, may be positive, and may contribute to a reorientation of our role in the universe.