selected work

Up

For an hour most Mondays I absorb the stench of stale beer; spilled liquor acts as an adhesive. I endure this offense to the olfactory organs for the opportunity to stand on my head. This doesn’t make me much of a new-age hippy - yoga is in the college bar - there’s nothing spiritual there. It’s not the perspective of things upside down that allures me to be inverted, it’s the element of folding over - even the anticipation of it - if I fail to maintain a semblance of stillness, stop watching my internal self, I lose balance; and I will double over from the waist - forwards or back - and my bare feet will touch the grimey bar floor; I could get stuck there.

Installation photographs coming soon.