I seem to spend an awful lot of time looking at the road (I am a cyclist after all). Its textures, unusual spots and cracks. I photograph it, soaking in how the light strikes it on different days.
The road is a potent symbol, the path that takes us places, from here, to there. It is as close to the earth as we come in the city, a flat canvas, shaped by us and our lives, as much as by the forces of nature. In turn, it shapes us. We walk it, every day, cycle on it, drive on it.
We are not separate from nature, from the effects of time, even when we look the other way.
The flatness of the plates I echo the road surface, and although I may be holding other ideas in my head as I work, somehow the road still seeps through.