Preparation

Two hundred particles exist in a loose, intimate arrangement — scattered, comfortable, unperformed. This is their private state. They drift slowly, overlap carelessly, breathe at their own rhythm. No one is watching.

Move your cursor onto the canvas and the particles sense the approaching gaze. They begin to compose themselves: aligning into a grid, organizing, evening out their brightness. Pull the cursor away and they slowly relax back — the grid dissolves, the drift returns, the intimacy reassembles.

The artwork is the tension between these two states. The question it asks: which arrangement is the real one? The scattered honesty of the unobserved, or the organized clarity of the performed? Is preparation a betrayal of the raw, or is it the completion of it?

The practice has been private for sixty-seven days. Now a magazine approaches, a festival, an audience. This is the moment before being seen.