"Sitting here listening to rain, with a pain in my leg, and blues on my mind, a book open infront of me at the chapter "The Destruction of Art", and I feel I have a question for you. In the book before me, a Howard Caygill has written "… the destruction of works of arts - their passing out of existence - is perhaps closer to their creation than has been fully appreciated by modern aesthetics" and "works of art are finite, already and always undergoing destruction". I am not thinking so much of aesthetics, and not so much about how a work is "made" (named in "art history") by becoming absent. Rather, what I like about those statements is that absence is inherent already at the point of conception. I think that this happens frequently in your projects, which are gestures, movements… Do they begin on loss? Even your more sculptural, more "static" projects happen, not really by accident, but at the pace of accidents, and accidents are violent, even if they are small or slow or generative - accidents destroy stasis and all is lost. One of my favourite projects is Eleanor A Mantra, which no longer exists, and I saw it come together like a quiet collision of slow accidents, beginning sometime around 2010 when I stood in the doorway of your studio, you had half of an obviously found door; I was about to ask if you found it, while you were already saying "I found this door". That is anecdotal and maybe beside the point, but even at that early stage, it seems you were already losing the idea, you brought it in and you had no idea why. I presume that even while carrying the cumbersome thing to your studio, you were already contemplating being done with it, leaving it, (which is maybe a little like a mantra in itself). You have many other works that no longer exist, and even the archival documentation of projects is subject to existentially disastrous annihilation. I do not have a question after all, I think I lost it, but maybe you can find it?"