Harvested, processed, extruded in a factory (is the sound of the machinery absorbed in so many layers of bedding?) the role of the cotton sheet is an idea as concrete as that of the light bulb. But over the course of their de/reconstruction, the used manchester and nightwear in the Sleep series has come to be both a receptacle and consigner of something more than their intended use. Naturally, part of it is compulsion, (like in most art) dealing out in some degree the slings of tempestuous motivation ingrained in the unique fury of cut textiles. And indeed the process is a source of unnerving exasperation, but it is also a source of comfort - two sides of the same inexhaustibly tossed coin. Cut. Pin. Sew. Stitch. Cut... It's a stubbornly beauteous monotony with enough space to accommodate at least some trace of the artist.