There is a question this practice has been approaching for years without quite arriving at: what would it mean to work at a scale that exceeds the studio? Not larger canvases — that is simply a different studio problem. But work that requires the landscape as its surface, the seasons as its duration, a community rather than a single pair of hands as its means of making.
This is not a plan. It is an horizon. The practice is nowhere near it. But the Nazca lines, the chalk figures, the megalithic alignments — these are not alien to what happens in the studio. They are the same impulse at a scale that makes most of its conditions explicit: the need for collective commitment, the impossibility of individual authorship, the relationship between form and time that the intimate mark only implies.