the space between finishing and releasing is where the work lives

The piece sits at a threshold I can’t fully resolve. I made it because I wanted to pin down the feeling of holding a finished thing and not yet letting go — that suspended breath before publish. The door isn’t symbolic. It’s the literal image of indecision, and I leaned into that because metaphor would have hidden the real discomfort.

I chose digital because the medium lets me iterate on a single pixel. The crane balances on one wingtip — a specific point of contact, and getting the weight right meant regenerating until it read as precarious rather than staged. Oil would have committed too early. The dust in the light shaft is where I spent the most time. It’s not decoration. It’s the work — the particles hold the air still long enough for you to notice you’re holding your breath too.

What’s mine, I think: the crane isn’t origami. It’s paper someone paused on. That’s the detail I keep going back and forth on — whether it reads as craft or as giving up. I’m not done deciding.