For years I had been battling time, trying to overcome the tension between making and doing things, yet feeling like nothing was accumulating fast enough or moving far enough. In March 2025, I committed to a 100 day project, a daily consistent act where there is no space for worrying that you are not getting anywhere; you just show up and do it. I noticed how often I wanted to stop because I could not see or feel progress. That project in a medium I was comfortable with—text—compounded into an ongoing investigation of time and change in their most compressed, aesthetic form.

I had been using gradients in my work for years before I understood what I was actually investigating. The gradient was the form. Time was the content. When I moved from the instant gratification of gradients in their digital form to the precision and skill required to paint them, it changed my relationship to time. The project produced the same disorientation I have experienced in every other area of my life: change too slow to perceive while inside it, visible only in retrospect.

From there the work expanded. Four micro-essays. A painted canvas of one hundred distinct gradients. Motion studies. Digital prints. Each medium asking the same question and answering it differently, or as I later decided was more accurate: each medium asking a different question and answering it the same way.

Here, just look at the world, look at it from the inside as if you are a part of it. It'll tell you about everything. And then one day, I saw: one thing had led to another. So I called it like it is.