Exploration is the name of the game. Who wants to be a cog in a gear in a bump on a log jam machine, faltering at the bottom of the sea and sputtering obscenities about how things should be? Not me. Every piece is new. I have a thousand and one ideas. All aimed at that most American of dreams, freedom. But I was born in Canada, where human dreams don’t extend much beyond a hundred miles north of the border. There is something I can feel, something wilder even, than those vast expanses. Perhaps it is the medium in which we live and dream that fascinates me so, the one in which the galaxies do their ordered and violent dance. As far as I can tell in this noisy world, there’s something or nothing ineffable that allows it all to happen. Some objects are like ducks backs. Attention rolls off them and stares the viewer back in the face. How does that work? This is my task, and my joy.
-Michael Solomon Cran