“Setting” holds several meanings: it can refer to places at the table; the laying of bricks; a landscape such as Fort Dunree; the daily descent of the sun; and the transformation of a material from pliable to hardened form. In this installation, a brick wall loses all authority, crumbling, stretching, softening, and spilling over the table’s edge as if approaching the event horizon of a black hole. Small ceramic bees and butterflies hover above. Beyond the table, a gold disc shines, neither rising nor setting. The table may be set, but not for a feast; rather, what is set is a scene of collapse, return, and transformation.

Bricks are a building block and residue of empire. Across Roman, British, and American imperial histories, bricks recur as modular objects of enclosure, expansion, settlement, division, and control. They are at once ordinary and monumental,small enough to hold in the hand, but capable of becoming churches, forts, factories, houses, plantations, prisons,, and walls. In this installation, bricks carry the weight of the human systems and conflicts that underlie our everyday. Bricks make visible the belief that permanence can be built.

Fort Dunree’s military architecture, coastal position, and history of defense make the brick both a material presence and a historical echo. The fort’s structures bear visible signs of collapse, erosion, and repair. During my time at Dunree, I became interested in the idea of “arrested decay.” That is, the attempt to preserve a structure at the edge of ruin, to hold it in a suspended state between endurance and disappearance.

Ceramics itself is a form of arrested decay. Clay begins as earth, is molded into form, and through firing becomes fixed. The sculptural bricks in Setting are made from Lizella clay, a resource native to Middle Georgia in the American Deep South. This is where the work was made and where I have lived for the past half decade. The material carries a 17,000 year relationship with the inhabitants of that region, including Indigenous making, enslaved labor, agricultural use, industry (i.e., brick making), trade, and local craft. Brought here to Fort Dunree, the clay sets up a dialogue between two places shaped by empire, extraction, and division.

The use of gold on a large disc and in smaller traces throughout the work as pollen is a reference to the sacred and extractive aspects of the material, bound to divinity, wealth, colonial violence, and human desire. Gold and bees both carry layered associations: institutional power, pollination, religious ornament, and sunlight. The bees also call up older sacred associations, particularly the Irish goddess Brigid, who brought magical nectar and honeybees to Ireland, as well as their presence within Catholic and Vatican visual vocabularies, most famously through the Barberini bees associated with Pope Urban VIII. Ultimately, pollen and pollinators connect to a substance truly divine and life-giving.

Alongside the flora and fauna, the installation refers to less visible forces of nature. Big Time is a driving force. Empires, borders, forts, churches, nations, and identities depend on a narrative of permanence, but these are always temporary arrangements. They repeat, harden, fracture, and fall, and the natural world is not passive in relation. The forces of Big Time outlast the manmade, wearing down, absorbing,, and eclipsing. Setting asks what human systems look like when measured against the larger scales of celestial, ecological, evolutionary, and geological time.