I think of this sculpture as a slow, tectonic grinding between what is grown and what is manufactured. The serpentine at the base acts as a heavy, green anchor that eventually splits into the pale, crystalline light of the blue calcite. The pulse at the center is a rusted gear claimed by the stone, though I’m unsure if the machine is driving the figure or if the earth is simply consuming the evidence of an old industry. In the dark form that rises above, I was looking for a shadow that refuses to settle, a spirit in the act of either being born from the rock or slowly being reclaimed by it.