As a kid one of my favourite activities was to lie upside down in the backseat of a moving car and watch how the electrical wire lines moved in and out of sight through the window. Moving lines across a page in space, silent stories are being told. The viewer becomes part of a scene, walking through the visibilities, is invited to play and move within an environment of narrative ambience. A figure might be placed in a particular setting and seen temporarily like in a moving image, capable of being reached only with great difficulty, or not at all. Variable sizes of figurative or object constructions are cut out like props and contrasted or suspended, the black and white version of reality. The falling man off his chair slides out of a Remodernist Jim Jarmusch movie, something happens and he becomes a painter. The saxophone is abandoned, a product of reducing elements, like the cloud erasing the visibility of blue sky. The pickup sticks dropped large like a child plays her game on the floor are elements to stage and contrast this narration. Walking, moving, seeing this phenomenon in the everyday, the town in my shoes as I walk.