I dreamt of yellow knives, or, Aloe i | installation: The Border Project Space | papier-mâché, cement, graphite, polymer clay, gouache | 2019

I dreamt of snow and yellow knives. Cold objects, souvenirs of the climate in real time. Almost painful to touch but reassuring in thickness. Like bone. Like a matter of fact in my hand. One hole cut from another hole in the world. Things endure, they just take on other forms. That is reassuring thing number two. Now imagine more knives, five, six. Is the feeling of security exponential? Is there a number of sharp objects that would make me feel safe? I could assemble a field of knives and place them point down in the snow, like fence posts. Shine a flashlight on them and watch the light dance across like the aurora borealis. Reflecting and refracting. A sky in snow. You can make things into other things - metal, light, horizons.

But here there is no snow. No yellow knives, or knives of any colour. And it is hot, unbearably hot. I am looking around and all I see is a cathedral of dirt. A hole in the world made from one outside.

- Imaginary Peacekeeper