A pigeon doing its weekly shopping. Inexplicable behavior by the fence. Happy hour at the gym. A series of observations of daily activities in an urban setting.

"It may hold the tension" explores the interplay between comfort and unease, stability and collapse. When does comfort become a threat, when does security grow fragile?

This might be one. it may just stick with you until you forget this might be another one to pass by and ignore the broccoli wasn't good, rotten. If the ant turns right at the corner of the slab I won't want to know. The door opens and someone comes in, I want to see who, but in this exact moment, a crumb falls from the table on my shoe. What do I give my attention to? Can we control what we take in? Are we aware of what we say and is it relevant? It doesnt mean anything. Am I paying attention — to the right thing? who determines what's right? Is there inherent importance in things, or do we render them important by singling them out?

The patterns promise order. Squares structure, repeat, hold the surface together. In the attempt to grasp this order, it shifts. Forms dissolve, reassemble. Control is established — and lost again. Why do repeated squares lead to a loss of control, when they are meant to secure it?